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Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

















// ongo , the little brown bear , Cho-gay , Indian boy-ruler , 

Kaw, the wise old crow. 





The Wise OldCrow 


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GSA.CENCABL MOON < 



ILLUSTRATIONS by CAM. MOON 











































Printed in the United States of America 


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Copyright, 19 2 3 
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The Reilly & Lee Co. 


All Rights Reserved 


Wo n go and* t-hf Wise Old Crow 


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CONTENTS 


A Daring Plot 

Chapter Page 

1— In Timbertangle . 13 

2— Wongo and Kaw Make a Plan. 32 

3— Wongo Has a Wild Night. 46 

4— The Sad Tale of Old Grouch. 60 

Clio-gay of Timbertangle 

Chapter 

1— An Indian Boy Ruler. 69 

2— The Fox and the Wolf. 87 

3— Sandy Tells a Tale.108 

4— Kil-fang Startles Timbertangle.121 

5— The Rout of the Wolf Pack.129 

The Thunder Drum 

Chapter 

1— The Year of the Great Thirst.133 

2— Grayhead, the Grizzly.144 

3— At the Cave of Cho-gay.153 

4— In the Up-Above Country.166 

5— Rain Comes to Timbertangle.176 





















To our most flattering listeners 
Francis and Nary Caryl 

this hook is lovingly dedicated 

Grace and Carl Moon 


A Daring Plot 

CHAPTER 1 

IN TIMBERTANGLE 


There’s many a tale of adventure told, 

Of heroes that do and dare, 

But here is a tale of adventure hold, 

Of a goat, a crow, and a hear. 

There’s a quarrel and fight, 

And a desperate plot , 

And a villain as had as can he. 

Oh, it is a tale worth talking about! 

Just read it yourself, and see! 

A SUDDEN gust of cold wind swept along the 
mountain side and rattled the dry leaves and 
dead branches of some jack-oak bushes that stood 
at the entrance of a snug little cave. Its sole occu¬ 
pant, awakened by the noise, opened his eyes and 
looked blinkingly up at the pale dawn-light that 
shone on the familiar rocks of the roof above him. 
Once awake, he realized that he w r as thirsty and 
hungry, but he hated to get up, it would be so 
nice to have just a little more sleep. 

13 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

While the cave-dweller was deciding between the 
call of his stomach and his desire to sleep, a big 
bine jay, with feathers rumpled by the wind, lit 
on a rock at the cave entrance and, after peering 
within, called out: 

“ Sleepy-head! Sleepy-head! ” Then, as there 
was no response from the cave, he called again: 
“ Get up, Wongo. ‘ The early bird catches the 
worm,’ and the early hear may catch the fat sheep.” 

“ That’s all right about the early bird and the 
worm,” growled the little hear angrily, “ but a 
bird doesn’t know much and it served the silly 
worm right for getting up too early. He ought 
to get caught.” 

Then Wongo got to his feet and, as the noisy 
bluejay flew away, he crawled sleepily out of the 
cave and ambled down a secret trail that led to the 
canyon below. 

Although the sun was not quite up on this event¬ 
ful day, a pale dawn-light flooded the mountain 
side, causing the trees and bushes to look dim and 
ghostly. 

Wongo was in an ill temper. Hunger, thirst, and 
the desire to sleep, to say nothing of the wind that 
was bent on blowing his fur the wrong way, made 
him growl under his breath. And now he must go 
to the little stream that ran through the dark 

14 







A Daring Plot 

canyon far below and get a drink, and if he met 
any kind of an animal on the way that was good 
to eat — well, that animal had better look out for 
himself! 

Suddenly he stopped and sniffed the cool breeze 
that was now sweeping up from the gorge below. 

“ Meat! ” he ejaculated. “ Fresh meat of the 
young calf.” Then quickening his pace he soon 
stood on the rim of the canyon, with his nose in 
the air, sniffing to the right and to the left. It 
took but a moment to decide that the good smell 
came from up the canyon, but up the canyon was 
forbidden ground. That tantalizing odor meant 
just one thing, and that was that old Grouch, the 
meanest and most feared old bear in all Timber- 
tangle, had killed a calf, and had, no doubt, en¬ 
joyed a hearty breakfast. 

Wongo had never seen old Grouch, but he had 
always been very curious to know what he looked 
like. The fearsome tales told of the old bear by 
the many animals who had seen him had caused 
the little bear to leave the upper end of the canyon 
strictly alone. But on this particular morning 
hunger and curiosity weighed heavily against his 
fear. What if the old rascal had eaten all he 
wanted of the meat, and had gone away for a 
drink, or an early morning stroll, leaving a part of 

15 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

it in his den? Couldn’t Wongo creep up close 
enough to the den to see without any danger to 
himself? Suppose old Grouch was as bad as . 
everyone said he was, couldn’t Wongo run as fast 
as any old bear? 

As he argued thus to himself he stood gazing 
below him where, in the dim light of the dawn, he 
could see familiar patches of haw and berry bushes 
that still had plenty of fruit on them, but he was 
tired of haws and berries. The keen October air 
sharpened his appetite, and he wanted something 
more solid and satisfying than berries or the grubs 
that would be found under the flat rocks when the 
sun came up. 

Again Wongo took long sniffs of the air, and 
while caution told him to give old Grouch a wide 
berth, appetite and curiosity got the upper hand 
and he moved softly up the canyon toward the 
forbidden ground. More and more tempting grew 
the smell of the fresh meat, as he neared what his 
nose now told him must be old Grouch’s den. He 
stopped beside a thicket of jack-oaks and, as the 
smell seemed to come from just beyond it, he 
slowly and carefully put his head through them 
that he might see. 

Suddenly there was a rush from behind, fol¬ 
lowed by a stinging blow on the head that sent 

16 





A Daring Plot 


him tumbling over and over down the hillside. 
Scrambling- to his feet he made oft* at top speed, 
catching a glimpse of the great black bear from 
over his shoulder as he ran. 

6i I’ll teach you to go snooping around my cave, 
you little fat thief,’’ shouted old Grouch, as he 
glared after the fleeing Wongo. 

In mingled fear and rage the young bear ran 
on as fast as he could, not stopping until he ar¬ 
rived at the little brook at the bottom of the 
canyon. Here he took a long drink, and while it 
cooled his temper somewhat, the cold water fairly 
splashed in his empty stomach. 

As the thought of the fresh meat still lingered 
in his mind, Wongo wondered if there might not 
be a stray sheep or two down on the plains near 
the canyon’s mouth. Slowly returning to the rim 
of the gorge, he started disgustedly along a little 
trail that led toward the haw and berry bushes. 
But his thoughts were not of haws and berries. In 
the fall there was often the possibility of stealing 
a sheep, as the Navaho Indian women drove their 
flocks well up into the canyon for water at this 
season of the year. The thick underbrush caused 
the sheep to scatter in their passage up the canyon 
bed, thus giving any brave and cunning young- 
bear a fine chance to make off with a nice meal of 

17 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

fresh mutton, provided his bravery and cunning 
were sufficient to outwit the Navalio dogs. 

Twice, of late, he had stolen a nice fat sheep 
from the scattered flocks, but on both occasions 
he had been assisted by his friend Kaw, the crow. 
Kaw had signaled to him from the top of a tall 
pine tree, wdiere the sharp-eyed old bird could 
watch the movements of the dogs and could tell 
him where they were at any moment. As for the 
Indian women and boys who drove the sheep, he 
could watch them himself as they were tall enough 
to be seen above the underbrush, and he had no 
difficulty in keeping out of their sight. 

A queer kind of an old bird was Kaw, but a good 
friend, as many an occasion had proven. The old 
crow loved to tease the little bear, and Wongo al¬ 
ways pretended to be indifferent to the teasing, yet 
he secretly liked Kaw best when he was in a 
teasing mood, as on such occasions he frequently 
talked in rhyme, or recited some verses that amused 
Wongo very much. 

His first meeting with Kaw had been a strange 
one, and he remembered quite clearly all that had 
taken place on that occasion. That was more than 
a year ago now, when Wongo, who at that time 
was scarcely more than a fat cub, was on his w r av 
home one evening. He had been ambling along 

18 






A Daring Plot 

through the quiet forest, and had chanced to pass 
the tall stump of a hollow tree that had a great 
black hole near the bottom of it. Having been 
born with a great desire to inquire into all things, 
he suddenly wished to know just what it was like 
inside of that hole. He therefore walked up to 
the stump, and had just put his little nose inside 
when he heard the most fearful squawking and 
croaking noise that seemed to come from high up 
in the stump itself. 

“ Woof! ” ejaculated Wongo, as he jumped back¬ 
ward, his little eyes bulging with fright and the 
short hair on his back standing up like porcupine 
quills. Stumbling backward for a dozen paces he 
sat down upon his haunches and gazed wide-eyed up 
at the top of the stump. There sat a crow who 
was laughing so hard his black wings were flutter¬ 
ing against his sides. It was quite evident that 
it was he who had made the unearthly noise, and 
that he had simply shouted it down through the 
hollow stump. 


“ Haw, haw,” laughed the crow, “ Well, I do declare, 
Did ever one see such a curious bear? 

He’s so filled with desire 
Both to peep and encpiire, 

He’d poke his young nose anywhere.” 


19 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

With growing anger and amazement Wongo 
cried out, “ You black old croaker, I suppose you 
think you Ye smart.” 

At that the crow half fell, half flopped down to 
the top of a near-by bush, and having straightened 



his face into a more serious expression said: 

“ Don’t add a hasty temper to your weakness of 
indulging in idle curiosity. I could not resist so 
rare a bit of fun, and besides,” he added, “ I taught 
you a valuable lesson if you will only heed it, my 
young friend.” 

u Young, indeed! ” snapped Wongo, who was at 

20 

















A Daring Plot 

that time very sensitive about his age. “Anyone 
can see that I am many times bigger than you, 
so must be much older.” 

“ Your size has nothing to do with your age,” 
replied the crow. “ Listen while I tell you about 
the Pebble and the Sage: 

“ An old man walking o’er the strand. 

Picked a pebble from the sand. 

‘ I wish that I were small/ sighed he, 

8 For I would gay and youthful be.’ 

88 8 Size has naught to do with age/ 

Said the Pebble to the Sage. 

8 You’re very old, one might remark. 

But I watched Noah build the ark.” 

Seeing from the rather blank expression on 
Wongo’s face that he had failed to understand the 
reference to Noah and the Ark, the crow continued 
more bluntly: 

88 And thus, my friend, although you’re big, 

So’s a jackass or a pig. 

That I am small is very true, 

Yet I am older, far, than you. 

88 I knew old Silvertip, your father, long before 
you were born, and/’ he added thoughtfully, “ I 
suppose you come by your desire to peep and pry 

21 









Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

honestly enough, as it was your father’s weakness 
before you. Had he been less inquisitive, and had 
he taken my advice, he would not have been caught 
in the clumsy trap that proved his undoing.” 

The fact that this old crow had known his father 
caused Wongo’s attitude toward him to change 
from one of anger to one of respect. He began to 
listen to the crow’s remarks with a more kindly 
feeling. 

“ But to go back to the lesson I tried to teach 

you,” continued Kaw, “ you should never poke 

vour head inside a hollow tree. If a bobcat or 

a swarm of bees had been in that hole thev could 

*/ 

have given you a lot of painful punishment before 
you could have said scat, and yet, when I come 
to think of it,” he added with a droll expression 
on his face, “ I suppose you could make bees 
stand for you.” 

“ How could I? ” asked Wongo. “ I don’t think 
I understand how I could make bees do anything 
except get after me.” 

“ Well,” said the crow, as he spread his wings 
for flight, “ if I remember my alphabet lessons 
rightly, a B always stands for bear.” 

“ That’s so,” thought Wongo as he watched 
Kaw wing his slow flight into the darkening forest, 
and he turned homeward resolved that as soon as 

22 







A Daring Plot 

lie arrived lie would ask his mother to tell him 
about Noah and the Ark. 

But all this had happened the year before, and 
since that time the crow had proven to he a de¬ 
lightful friend and companion. And now, on this 
cool October morning, the little hear wished that 
his friend Kaw would happen along to tell him if 
he had seen any stray sheep wandering unguarded 
in the canyon below. 

At the thought of the recent encounter with old 
Grouch, his hair bristled with anger, and as he 
walked down the little trail hungry and disgruntled, 
he mumbled half aloud, “ When I am grown I’ll 
whip old Grouch, and I’ll certainly give him such a 
good beating he will be glad to leave the country.” 

Suddenly a familiar voice, that seemed to come 
from above him, remarked, “ He who wins a tight 
does not always depend upon size, friend Wongo.” 

“ Hullo, Kaw,” said the bear, whose ill temper 
began to leave him the instant he heard the voice of 
his friend. “ I was just thinking of you a moment 
ago, and when you spoke I was wishing I were 
big enough to whip old Grouch, and I’ll surely do 
it when I am grown. I had a fight with the old 
black rascal a few minutes ago, but it wasn’t a 
fair fight, for he hit me from behind, and I fell 
down a hill, and when I got up he was too far 

23 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

away for me to fight him. But I’ll get even with 

him some dav.” 

«/ 

“ So you would grow more before attempting to 
punish the old enemy of the canyon, would you? ” 
asked the crow. Then, without waiting for Wongo 
to reply, he asked, “ Did you ever hear the story 
about the Terrible Turk? ” 

“ No, I haven’t,” said the bear. “ What about 
him? ” 

Clearing his throat, which at best was a bit husky, 
the crow began: 

“ With a flock of wild turkeys that lived in a pine 
Near the top of old Tonka-pah Peak, 

Was a whopping big gobbler that measured three feet 
From his tail to the tip of his beak. 

“ This conceited old turkey was greatly puffed up. 

Even thought he was too good to work. 

As he’d bullied and whipped all the gobblers around, 

He was known as the Terrible Turk. 

4 4 One night a strange gobbler flew T up to the tree; 

He looked small in the yellow moonlight. 

There was something about him — just what I can’t say, 
That would cause you to think he could fight. 

“ Well the two gobblers fought, just as one might expect, 

And the Terrible Turk thought it fun 

When the fighting began. He remarked to the hens, 

* Watch me start this young bird on the run.’ 

24 





A Daring Plot 

Well they fought all the night; ’twas no everyday fight, 
But by the faint light of the dawn 
Could be seen the young turkey high up in the tree, 
And the Terrible Turk — lie was gone. 

So remember, my friend, when you fight for a prize, 
That success does not always depend upon size.” 

“ Do you advise me to try to whip old Grouch 
now? ” asked Wongo. 

“ Well, not in an actual fight with tooth and 
claw,” drawled the crow. “ We sometimes have to 
fight with our wits, and there is usually more than 
one way to defeat an enemy. I, myself, have long 
wanted to get rid of that old trouble-maker, and 
we may hit upon a plan, but hush! ” he ejaculated 
in a lower tone, “ there he goes now.” 

“ Where? ” asked Wongo, excitedly. 

“ Down the other side of the canyon,” replied 
Kaw, ‘‘ but you are not high enough up to see him. 
I saw the old thief steal a young calf last night, 
and I suppose he has eaten his fill, and is now 
after a drink.” 

“ Yes,” said Wongo. “ I know about that calf 
meat, and— ” He stopped suddenly, as he thought 
it might be best not to tell his friend why it was 
that he had gotten into trouble with old Grouch. 

“ You are not hungry, are you, friend Wongo? ” 

25 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

asked Kaw, paying no heed to the little bear’s sud¬ 
den stop in his remark about the calf meat. 

“ My hunger is all there is in me,” said Wongo, 
promptly. “ I am more than half starved.” 

“ Well,” chuckled Kaw, “ I was thinking that 
you might take a short cut to old Grouch’s den 
right now, while I keep an eye on him. I think 
you may find a pretty good feed beneath the big 
flat rock that is near the front of his cave. Keep 
an ear open for my call. I will let you know when 
he turns homeward.” 

At the thought of his recent encounter with old 
Grouch, Wongo hesitated for a moment, but he had 
great faith in Kaw, and he must have something 
to eat, so he trotted away up the canyon as noise¬ 
lessly as he could go. A half hour later, just as 
he had finished the last bit of Grouch’s hidden 
meat, he heard Kaw’s faint, far-away “ caw, caw ” 
of warning and beat a hasty retreat around the 
mountain side. 

After putting a safe distance between himself 
and the den of old Grouch, Wongo trotted down 
a slope to a ledge of flat rocks that projected high 
above a steep cut in the mountain. 

From this ledge he had often looked down over 
the sage-covered plains far below, and one spot in 
particular had always attracted his attention and 

26 







(tf/ 



From this ledge Wongo looked down over the plains below 






























A Daring Plot 

aroused his ever-present curiosity. It was a tiny 
place, or so it seemed from the mountain, a place 
where Navaho Indians lived, and Kaw had told 
him that it was made of mud-covered trees that 
were stood up together to make a kind of cave, 
but, of course, it could not be a real cave, for real 
caves must be made in rocks or dug into the earth. 
Often, as he looked down at this strange little 
house, a thin, bluish cloud arose from the center 
of it, and when the w T ind was in the right direction 
it brought to his nostrils odors of strange things — 
things good to eat. 

The Indian man-house always filled Wongo with 
wonder, and he desired more than anything else 
to go up to it and see just w T hat it looked like 
close at hand. Once, when he had looked down 
upon it just at nightfall, he had seen something 
that shone red like a bit of the sun when it sinks 
in a summer haze. That shining red light was 
another very curious thing that he must know 
about, and he must see it up close. He would ask 
Kaw about that bit of the sun that he had seen 
shining from the Indian man-house. 

Now that his stomach was filled, Wongo seemed 
to be filled with confidence also. The warm sun 
shone hot from the desert, its welcome rays adding 
to his feeling of comfort and self-assurance. Why 

29 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

should he have fear of the little place where lived 
the Navahos? Why fear anything? To-night he 
would go down the mountain and visit the Indian 
man-house and see for himself just what it looked 
like. Nothing, aside from the dogs that he could 
outwit or run away from, could harm him. 

He knew that the Navahos would not so much 
as touch him. Had not his mother told him that 
they believed there was a witch — whatever that 
was — in every bear, and that if they harmed the 
bear the witch thing would make great trouble 
come upon them? Neither his mother nor Kaw, the 
crow, seemed to know what a witch was, but that 
didn’t matter so long as it caused the Indians to 
have fear, and thus kept them from shooting their 
arrows into bears, as he had seen them shoot into 
deer and rabbits. Wongo had observed that when 
Indian arrows stuck into animals they nearly al¬ 
ways killed them. 

Turning away from the ledge, he started slowly 
down the mountain, deciding that he would, that 
very night, satisfy his curiosity about the man- 
house. In the meantime he would go down into 
the canyon and get a cool drink, after which he 
would visit some berry patches just over the ridge, 
and explore among the foothills a bit before his 
nap-time, which always came just after the sun 

30 





A Daring Plot 

had walked past the middle of the sky. At that 
period of the day the sun’s warm rays seemed to 
cast a sleepy spell over the silent mountain side, 
so all of the animals, with one accord, had decided 
it should be the hour for their mid-day sleep. 

So Wongo ambled down the mountain and feasted 
on the berries in the patch over the ridge, after 
a cooling drink at the canyon spring. Then the 
little bear went happily to his cave for his nap. 


31 





CHAPTER 2 


WONGO AND KAW MAKE A PLAN 

N AP-TIME had come and gone, the long, warm 
afternoon hours had slipped away and the sun 
was just wrapping itself up in a bed of pink and 
gold clouds that hung on the horizon, when Wongo 
started, somewhat cautiously, down the trail that 
led from the mountain through the foothills far 
below, and on to the open plains. As he was shuf¬ 
fling along, thinking how best to approach the 
man-house, and wondering if it would be dark 
enough by the time he reached the sage-covered 
plains to go into the open without being seen, he 
heard the slow flapping of wings near by and a 
voice that sang in Kaw’s most teasing manner: 


“ Oh, he waddles along with his toes turned in, 

His mouth set straight ’twixt his nose and his chin; 
His little eyes peep from the front of his head, 

And whenever he cries they turn very red. 

Very red, so ’tis said, 

Very red, very red; 

His eyes, when he cries 
Turn exceedingly red! 


32 



“ He waddles along with his toes turned in” 























A Daring Plot 


In the animal book it shows him as * bear,’ 

And yet, I observe, he is covered with hair. 

Now one never thinks of a berry as bare, 

Yet who ever saw one all covered with hair? 

Hairy berry? 

Puzzle contrary, 

For here is a bear that’s not bare! ” 

As Wongo walked on in silence, not even deign¬ 
ing to glance in Kaw’s direction, the latter con¬ 
tinued still more teasinglv: 

£ ‘ They say he can scratch, and they say he can hug. 

And his skin, so ’tis said, makes a beautiful rug. 

His growl and his strength and his looks are his pride, 
Yet none of these things are worth half of his hide. 

Hug a bear rug, 

A bug in a jug; 

His skin, so ’tis said, makes a beautiful rug.” 

“ That’s enough of your poor rhyming wit,” 
said Wongo, sitting down beside the trail. “ That 
last string of words is too personal, and besides, 
your remarks about the rug make me nervous.” 

“ Oh! Ho! Little bear, you must he on a nervous 
errand to-night, eh? By-the-by, I see that you are 
not headed toward home, and it nears the hour 
when all honest folk should be on their roosts.” 

“ Roosts! ” ejaculated Wongo, with a disgusted 
grunt. “ Do you think everybody roosts simply 

35 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

because you have to! A fox or a wolf or a bear 
would look well roosting out on the limb of a tree, 
now wouldn’t they! ” he asked crossly. 

“ That has no bearing whatever on what I said,” 
replied Kaw, “ since I remarked that it was about 
time that all honest folk were on their roosts. It 
is well that some of us can roost, and roost high, 
too, when certain night-prowlers are into mischief.” 

Ignoring Raw’s teasing, Wongo suddenly asked, 
4 4 What is the little red light that shines from the 
Indian man-house when it is dark at night! It’s 
like a bit of the sun when it sinks red in the sum¬ 
mer haze.” 

“ That is what they call fire,” replied Kaw, “ and 
when they make it a little blue cloud comes up out 
of it, and thev call the cloud smoke.” 

“ Well, I want to see it up close,” said Wongo. 

“ So that’s where Mr. Curiosity is going to¬ 
night, is it! ” 

“ How about your own curiosity! ” asked Wongo. 
“ It seems to me you have done a lot of prying 
yourself to have learned so much about fire and 
witch, and the Indian man-house.” 

“ Well,” said Kaw, with a chuckle, “ I have to 
investigate a lot of things simply that I may be 
able to answer the foolish questions of some of 
my ignorant friends. I was down there on a visit 

36 





A Daring Plot 

to the man-liouse myself to-day,” he added, with¬ 
out giving Wongo time to say anything further 
about his curiosity, “ and there is a squaw-man at 
the hogan.” 

“ What is a squaw-man f ” asked Wongo, for¬ 
getting Kaw’s remarks about foolish questions. 

“ Well, he’s a white-skinned man who has an 
Indian wife. An Indian woman is called a squaw, 
so the man is called a squaw-man. No men that 



have white skins believe in bear witches, and they 
like to kill bears, and they kill things with a long 
stick that shines, and it spits smoke with a loud 
noise, and it shoots a small heavy thing straight at 
the animal or bird that it points at. They call the 
bright stick a gun, and it is surely more to be 
feared than bows and arrows. You may see an 

37 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 


arrow coming but you can’t see the little thing that 
the gun stick sends out.” 

“Wheel” exclaimed Wongo, his little eyes 

* 

growing wide with mingled interest and fear. 

“ Yes,” continued the old crow, “ I’ve seen 
this squaw-man before. Met him some years ago 
away over on the other side of the two ranges, and 
he certainly can shoot straight with that gun thing, 
as the loss of one of mv best tail feathers bears 
witness — and I was flying some at the time, too. 
I didn’t get but a few grains of his old corn. 
But no matter about that now,” he said, coming 
back to the subject in hand, “ for I must tell you 
more about what I saw to-day. This squaw-man 
came to the Indian man-house yesterday with horses 
tied to a big thing that moves over the ground 
without walking. ’ ’ 

“ Snake! ” asked Wongo. 

“ No! ” snapped Kaw. “ Don’t interrupt me 
with silly questions. The thing has four round 
things beneath, where its legs ought to be, and 
they roll over and over when the horses walk. The 
man calls it by the name of ‘ wagon.’ On top of 
it is a thing he calls a cage. It has four sides 
and each side is like a row of little trees that have 
grown very close together, only you couldn’t get 
through the little trees on the cage thing, as they 

38 





A Daring Plot 

are fastened into a floor place and into a strong 
top that is called a roof. I heard him explain it 
all to the Indians.’’ 

“ What is it for! ” asked Wongo. 

“ Well, the squaw-man told the Indian men that 
something, or somebody called a L show ’ wants him 
to catch a bear, and not kill it, but put it inside 
of the cage thing. Then the Indian men laughed 
and some looked afraid. When the squaw-man 
gets a bear into the cage I suppose the horses will 
walk with it and roll it off to the place where 
‘ show ’ is. Now the reason I tell you all this, 
when I ought to be at home and asleep, is because 
I have a plan that you and I must carry out to¬ 
night.” 

“ I guess it’s so late I’ll not visit the man- 
house,” said Wongo, as he slowly turned around 
on the trail and headed toward home. 

“ Tut-tut! ” said the crow. “ You will have to 
be much braver than that if you expect ever to 
punish old Grouch.” 

“ Who said anything about being afraid! ” 

asked Wongo, pulling himself up short and trying 

to look verv brave. 

%/ 

“ I beg your pardon,” said Kaw, gravely. “ I 
was foolish enough to think, for the moment, that 
you might possibly be going home because you 

39 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

feared the squaw-man, but now that I see by your 
look that you could never be a coward I know 
that you will be glad to accompany me down to 
the man-house.’’ 

“ Do you mean to say that you are going back 
to the Indian den to-night? ” asked Wongo, trying 
to conceal his fear. 

“ That is a part of my plan, and we will go to¬ 
gether. Listen. Since seeing the squaw-man with 
his cage thing, I have thought of a scheme, and 
if we carry it out successfully we will be doing 
ourselves and everybody in Timbertangle a great 
service. If you will follow my instructions no 
harm can come to you.” 

“ Let me hear the plan,” said Wongo, sitting 
down again somewhat nervously. 

“ On the west side of the man-house is a corral,” 
began Kaw. “ There are sheep and goats in the 
corral to-night. The door of the man-house is 
toward the east. All Navalio Indians make their 
hogans with the door toward the rising sun. The 
horses are hobbled in a bunch on the south side of 
the hogan. The wind is from the south. We 
will go up to the man-house from the north, so 
that the dogs and horses will not smell you com¬ 
ing. There would certainly be trouble if they did,” 
he added. 


40 





A Daring Plot 

“ The moon will not be up to take its night 
■walk for some time yet, but let us be on our 
way, as we can talk as we go. You are to go 
to the top of the little bill that you will find close 
to the man-house, and when you are there wait until 
you bear me call. Be careful to travel as noise¬ 
lessly as ever you did in your life. Three of my 
crow friends will be with me in the sagebrush on 
the opposite side of the man-liouse. When I see 
you come to the top of the little hill my friends 
and I will make a loud and strange noise that will 
set all the dogs in our direction, and will, if all 
goes well, stampede the horses.’’ 

“ Why do you scare the horses! ” asked Wongo. 

44 Well,” replied Kaw, “ four of the horses be¬ 
long to the squaw-man, and I just want to make 
him pay up a bit for the loss of my tail feather.” 

“ Ho, ho! ” growled Wongo, “ I understand that 
part of your strange plan at least. Go on.” 

“ As soon as you hear us,” continued Kaw, “ and 
know that the dogs have run in our direction, you 
make a jump for the corral and grab a sheep. 
Don’t make a mistake and get a goat, for there are 
big ones in that flock that the Indians keep to pro¬ 
tect the sheep from the coyotes, and if you should 
get one of them you might come to grief. Don’t 
kill the sheep, but make off with it as fast as you 

41 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

can travel, taking the shortest cut to the canyon. 
Hold the sheep around the neck so that it can’t 
make any noise. 

“ Make as plain a trail with your feet as you 
can, by running on soft ground whenever you find 
any. Go straight up the canyon toward old Grouch’s 
den. You’ll be safe enough even though he hears 
you and comes out to fight, as all you will have 
to do is to kill the sheep, drop it and run. He 
will stop quickly enough when he finds the meat, 
but I hope he will not hear you, and the chances 
are that he won’t, as he has had a big feed to-day 
and will sleep. However, he is an old glutton and, 
thanks to your making way with the remainder of 
his calf meat this morning, he will be keen enough 
for another square meal before daylight comes. 

“ When you’ve carried the sheep up to the thicket 
that is near his den, kill it and lay it down. Then 
walk backwards, backwards mind you, to the big 
vine-covered rock, and when you come to it jump 
straight over it, and run to your home by the long 
way round the mountain.” 

“ What’s all this for? ” asked Wongo, who was 
confused by the long and seemingly foolish instruc¬ 
tions. “ It sounds like a lot of nonsense to me,” 
he continued. “ Why in the world should I risk 
my neck to get a sheep for old Grouch? ” 

42 





A Daring Plot 

4 4 I am just coming to the explanation, ’ ’ said 
Kaw. “ When the squaw-man and the Indians start 
out early to-morrow morning to catch a live hear, 
what do you suppose they will do? ” 

“ They will find my trail and follow it,” said 

Wongo promptly, “ and it will he a sorry day for 

me if thev catch me.’” 

•/ 

“ Well,” replied Kaw, “ you are right and you 
are wrong. They will follow your trail, hut it will 
he old Grouch and not you that they will catch. 
The old rascal will probably smell the fresh mut¬ 
ton as soon as you drop it, and when he comes 
down for it his tracks will meet yours, and will 
be more fresh than yours when the squaw-man’s 
dogs come to that part of the trail.” 

“ Ho, ho! I see your scheme now,” said Wongo, 
chuckling at the thought of old Grouch being cap¬ 
tured by the terrible squaw-man. “ But,” said 
he, stopping suddenly as the fearful thought struck 
him, “ what if the dogs should get off onto my 
trail when they reach the big rock? ” 

“ I have provided for just that possibility,” said 
Kaw. “ I have engaged an old friend of mine to 
pick up your trail as soon as you leave the rock 
and,” he continued with a chuckle, “ they won’t 
follow him very far.” 

44 Who is he? ” inquired Wongo. 

43 








Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“ Well,” said Kaw, whose voice seemed just a 
shade apologetic, “ he is a polecat for whom I 
have done a good turn, and he is both anxious to 
serve me and to get even with old Grouch, who 
destroyed the polecat’s nest when in one of his 
mad fits.” 

“ I hope he stays some distance behind me,” 
said Wongo thoughtfully. 

“ After leaving the sheep,” said Kaw, continuing 
his instructions, “go on around the mountain and 
I will meet you at the flat-topped rock near your 
cave. We will then compare notes, and then go 
out to warn every bear, and all of our animal 
friends on the mountain side, to leave the country 
before sun-up — all except Grouch,” he added with 
a grin. 

The two had now come to the sage-covered flat 
that lay near the Indian hogan, so quickly repeat¬ 
ing the most important part of his instructions, 
and giving Wongo a final warning to use the 
utmost care, Kaw flew away to the south. Although 
it was dark, Wongo could see the outline of the 

man-house some little distance awav. He walked 

«/ 

toward it very cautiously, noticing that it appeared 
much larger than it had seemed to be when viewed 
from the mountain side. Reaching the top of the 
little hill that the crow had described, he settled 

44 





A Daring Plot 

down in the sagebrush where he could look about 
him without fear of making a noise. He was now 
only a few yards from the hogan, and through a 
little hole in the side came the mysterious red 
light, while from the top of the house drifted a 
thin little cloud that looked white and ghostly in 
the darkness. Strong were the odors it brought, 
odors of unfamiliar things mingled with the smell 
of meat. Lost in wonder about all of these strange 
things, Wongo almost jumped out of his skin when 
a black object swooped down and alighted at his 
side. 

“ Don’t be so nervous! ” commanded Kaw. 
44 The dogs are all on the other side. I came 
over to tell you that you will have time to go up 
to that hole, through which the firelight is show¬ 
ing, and have a look inside the man-house, if you 
will go with care. Keep your wits about you and 
your ears open. I will start the big noise in a 
very short time,” he added as he flew noiselessly 
away. 





CHAPTER 3 


WONGO HAS A WILD NIGHT 

L EFT alone, with the Navaho dogs and the 
Indian man-house so near at hand, Wongo 
hesitated for a moment before deciding to go up 
to the hole in the mysterious house, but this mighty 
appeal to his curiosity overpowered his fears, and 
he started toward the spot of light. 

His heart beating v T ildly with excitement, he 
reached the little hole in the wall of the hogan 
and cautiously put his eye to it. What a sight 
met his startled gaze! There were several Navaho 
men in the house, and two or three little men — 
Kaw had called them boys. The first thing that 
caught Wongo’s wondering attention was the fire. 
There it was, right in the center of the man-house. 
It was alive, and was eating sticks and bits of 
bark that popped and cracked as they died! And 
as it ate it seemed to leave a white dust that 
danced up into the light, when the men prodded 
the fire with a stick. Heat seemed to come from 
it, like the heat from the sun. Wongo had never 
seen anything like it before. On the floor around 

46 



Wongo put his eye to the hole 













































































I 










A Daring Plot 

the fire sat the Indians and the voice of one of 
the boy-men drew Wongo’s attention away from 
the fire. One old man was making something with 
straight sticks and the boy-man asked, “ Why 
must the feathers be put on the end of the arrows, 
father? ” 

“ It is the tail feathers of the bird that makes 
the bird fly straight, and it is the feathers of the 
arrow’s tail that makes it go straight when it 
leaves the bow string,” replied the old man. 

“ Why do you make long little grooves on the 
sides of the arrow, father? ” asked the boy-man. 

“ When the arrow goes into the deer the grooves 
let the blood come out at the sides. If no grooves 
are there, the arrow fills the wound, and the deer 
may run far and get away before he is dead.” 

Wongo drank in this information and put it into 
the back of his thoughts for future use. Then his 
eye wandered around the circle of men, some hold¬ 
ing long sticks in their lips, from which came little 
blue clouds like the larger clouds from the fire. 
This was confusing, and he could not understand 
it. Then his gaze fell suddenly on a man unlike 
any he had ever seen before. He sat back on the 
farther side of the fire against the wall of the 
man-house. His skin was white, and the lower 
part of his face had long hair on it, like the hair 

49 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

on the throat of the timber wolf in winter, only 
the man-hair was black. 

Just back of the man with the white skin was 
a long, shining stick, standing against the wall. 
Suddenly the thought came to Wongo that the 
white-skinned man was the “ squaw-man ” and the 
shining stick of strange shape was the gun thing 
that could shoot to kill a bear. A little shiver 
of fear crept over him, when the silence was broken 
again by the boy-man, who asked, “ Would the 
arrow from a strong bow kill a bear, father? ” 

“ We do not send the arrow at the bear witch,” 
said the man. “ It would not kill, but would anger 
the witch to great madness, and trouble — big 
trouble of much sickness — would come upon us 
all.” 

Then came the strange voice of the squaw-man, 
and all of the others in the hogan listened closely 
as he spoke. 

“ Do my red brothers go with me to get the 
live bear when the sun is up to-morrow? ” he asked. 
No one spoke for some time, and then an old man 
near the fire replied: 

11 We will go and make much noise with the 
drum and rattle, and will beat the ground with the 
sticks as you wish, but we will not help to catch 
the bear witch, nor send arrows at him. We do 

50 





A Daring Plot 

not go if you are to kill the bear witch, and we 
go only near the bear cave; not close.’’ 

“ That is all that I ask,” said the squaw-man. 

Suddenly there came a great noise from the 
other side of the man-house, followed by the loud 
barking of running dogs, and the snort of fright¬ 
ened horses. Running quickly toward the sheep 
corral, Wongo jumped over the low gate and 
made a grab in the darkness. 

“ What luck,” he thought, as he lifted an animal 
into his arms, and holding it tight around the neck 
he made off with it at top speed. But he had 
gone only a short distance when he discovered that 
there was something wrong with the sheep. It 
seemed too slick to hold easily and its legs and 
neck were longer than any of the sheep he had 
stolen before. Suddenly the animal began to 
squirm, and to kick and twist about in so vigorous 
a manner Wongo could scarcely hold it at all. It 
seemed to be all legs and feet. 

It went through such rapid contortions that the 
little bear was forced to change his hold on it 
so many times he became confused in the darkness, 
and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he 
held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But 
that point was decided for him a moment later 
by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, 

51 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that 
he gave a grunt of anger and disgust. 

“ You are a common, cactus-eating goat! ” cried 
Wongo, addressing the animal, “ and it’s too 
late to take you back, and I can’t kill you here, 
or turn you loose,” he added desperately. 

“ Ba-ah-ali! ” bleated the goat feebly, but loud 
enough to frighten Wongo into making a sudden 
grab for its neck, for he had been holding it tightly 
about the hind quarters, thinking he gripped it 
around the throat. With a great effort he swung 
the animal up on his shoulder, with head well for¬ 
ward where it could do no damage, and had started 
on with a fresh spurt of speed, when he suddenly 
tripped over a vine and down went bear and goat 
in a tumbling heap. 

Wongo had sufficient presence of mind to keep 
a tight hold upon his prisoner when he fell. The 
goat, having turned a complete somersault, lit 
squarely on his feet facing Wongo, who, having 
but three feet to use, had fallen awkwardly in a 
sitting position on his haunches, one fore-leg ex¬ 
tended with the paw tightly holding his prisoner 
back of the horns. Thus, although the goat could 
not go backward, nothing prevented him from go¬ 
ing forward and, acting on the instant the thought 
came to him, he gave a lunge, head downward. 








A Daring Plot 

Woof! ” ejaculated Wongo, as the animal’s 
head landed against the pit of his stomach, and to 
keep himself from going over backward with the 



shock of the blow, he was forced to use all four 
feet, thus giving the goat the chance it wanted. 
Off it sped like a white streak through the sage, 
and in an instant Wongo was in pursuit. 

Confused with fear, the goat headed straight for 
the mouth of the canyon up which lay the trail. 
Having secured a little start of the bear, the goat 
was running for his life and making good time. 
Realizing that they were going in the very direction 
he would have to carry his prisoner anyway, 
























Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

Wongo kept just close enough to the goat to 
frighten it into greater speed, knowing that once 
in the canyon the goat would stick to the path 
where there was fair footing, rather than attempt 
to plunge into the rocks or thick hushes on either 
side. On into the canyon sped the two animals; 
the goat, as Wongo had guessed, keeping to the 
trail. The goat was becoming less frightened. 
Had he not butted the bear over? Had he not 
run for some time faster than his pursuer could 
run? He was suddenly filled with confidence, and 
felt that he had a chance — a good chance — to get 
away from his enemy. As they sped upward, 
Wongo began to realize that they were nearing old 
Grouch’s patch of forbidden ground, and he had 
just caught the outline of the big, vine-covered 
rock, over which he was to jump after leaving his 
sheep, when he heard a savage growl from just 
ahead, and he suddenly realized that his old enemy 
had met them on the trail. 

Stopping instantly, Wongo began to walk back¬ 
ward as fast as he could to the big rock, and as 
he did so he heard a surprised “ Woof! ” from 
out of the darkness ahead; a sound of tumbling 
in the brush; then a sharp clatter of small hoofs 
that seemed to retreat over the rocks far to the 
left of the trail. 


54 





A Daring Plot 

Jumping quickly over the big rock, Wongo ran 
at top speed around the side of the mountain. He 
had run but a little way when his sensitive nose 
told him that Kaw’s friend, the polecat, had kept 
his promise. 

On ran Wongo, never stopping until he had 
circled the mountain and reached the flat-topped 
rock near his cave. He had scarcely stretched 
himself out for a short rest when he heard the 
flapping wings of Kaw, who flew up, singing as he 
came: 


“ Two plotters, they plotted a plot, 

And their plans were all laid to the dot! 

Then they said, ‘ let us meet, 

In a chosen retreat, 

And see if our scheme works or not. ’ ” 

“ Well,” said Kaw, as he ended the last line 
of his rhyme with a chuckle, “ my crow friends 
and I surely aroused that peaceful little Indian 
camp in great shape. We flew so low and kept up 
such an uproar, the dogs followed us for half a 
mile, and we gave the squaw-man’s horses such a 
scare it is going to take all of the men about the 
place to round them up if they want to make an 
early start in the morning.” 

Wongo then told Kaw of his adventures since 

55 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

the crow had left him near the hogan, not omitting 
a single detail of his experience with the goat, 
nor of the final meeting with old Grouch. 

At the end of the little bear’s recital the crow 
seemed so delighted he could scarcely contain him¬ 
self for mirth. Dancing around, first on one foot 
then on the other and keeping a peculiar kind of 
time by flapping one wing against his side, he 
sang in a high key: 


“ ‘ Oh, Mister Quack, you’re out of luck,’ 

Said the cunning little froggie to the spoon-bill duck, 
‘ Excuse my haste, for I must away, 

Or there’ll be no ceremony on my wedding day.’ 


“ Old Grouch will surely be out of luck to¬ 
morrow unless all signs fail,” he added, as he 
settled down into a more serious attitude. “ Did 
you say that after you and the goat met old 
Grouch you heard the clatter of the goat’s hoofs 
as though he were running away? ” he asked 
incredulously. 

“ Yes,” said Wongo. “When the goat met 
old Grouch there was a dull-sounding bump, and 
the old rascal gave a surprised grunt and seemed 
to thrash around a moment beside the trail. Then 
I heard the clatter of the goat’s hoofs on the rocks 

56 





A Daring Plot 

at the other side, and he sounded as though he 
were going like the wind.” 

“ Well, well,” said Kaw, shaking again with 
mirth, “ I never expected to hear anything like 
that, and I thought I was used to unexpected things, 
too. There is still work to he done before the 
night is over. It’s time you were warning the 
other bears on the mountain, and I must be oft* 
to find that goat and tell him how to get back to 
his friends in the corral below, before some night- 
prowling timber-wolf runs across him. He certainly 
has earned his life, and besides,” he added thought¬ 
fully, “ I may want to use him sometime and it’s 
just as well to do him a good turn as part pay for 
the service he unknowingly rendered us to-night. 
Have you many calls to make before your trip 
of warning is over! ” he asked. 

“ A good many,” said Wongo. “ There is old 
Mrs. Black, who has her cave about a mile above 
mine, the two Brown brothers who live over on 
the point, Mrs. Grizzly who lives with her two 
cubs over on the other side of the hill, and per¬ 
haps ten or twelve of our various friends who live 
across the valley, and I must not forget our friend 
4 Long-ears,’ the crippled jack-rabbit, who lives in 
the brier thicket. The Indians might try an arrow 
on him.” 


57 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“ Needn’t waste your sympathy on him,” said 
Kaw. “ He committed suicide last week.” 

“Why!” exclaimed Wongo in surprise, “I 
can’t believe it. How did it happen? He was 
always such a good-humored rascal.” 

“ Well,” said Kaw, “ he found a gray timber- 
wolf asleep in front of his den and, thinking it 



would be a good joke, he playfully kicked him in 
the ear! ” 

“ Umph! ” grunted Wongo sadly. “ He was a 
droll fellow, but too thoughtless, I suppose.” 

“ Where will you advise our friends to go to¬ 
night? ” asked Kaw. 


58 



















A Daring Plot 

“ There is only one good place where there will 
be food and plenty of water for all of ns, and that 
is over the two ranges to the north.” 

“ Good place,” said Kaw. “ Better than this, 
in fact. I know every inch of the big valley, and 
the stream there runs into a beautiful lake far 
over to the north, beyond the black hills. Let’s 
see, when the sun is straight overhead to-morrow, 
you will have reached the big aspen grove on the 
east side of the second mountain. I will meet you 
there and tell you all about the squaw-man’s big 
hunt for the live bear. I expect to watch the fun 
from the top of the tall pine that stands by the 
side of old Grouch’s cave, and if you were not so 
touchy about roosting, I might ask you to join me 
there,” he added with a grin. “ But I will try 
and give you a full account of all that happens.” 

And so the two friends separated, each to con¬ 
tinue his night’s work. 


59 





CHAPTER 4 


THE SAD TALE OF OLD GROUCH 

W HEN the sun looked down from over the 
mountain the next morning it saw an un¬ 
usual sight. A long, though peaceful, procession 
of bears, foxes, wolves, and even coyotes, went 
stringing along a dim trail leading toward the 
north. 

A large herd of timid deer, sensing the fact 
that there must be danger somewhere, or the other 
animals would not be leaving the country at this 
season of the year, trailed cautiously in the rear. 

Over the foothills and plains and little ravines 
traveled the procession, headed by Wongo. 
Through groves of big clean pine trees and over 
long stretches of sage-covered hills they went, 
never slackening the speed of their shuffling trot. 
It seemed to Wongo that it was the longest morn¬ 
ing he had ever spent, and he was just wondering 
if the sun could be standing still, just by way of 
playing a joke on him, when on rounding a sharp 
point he saw the big aspen grove a little way 
ahead. Then he noticed that he was stepping 


A Daring Plot 

squarely on liis shadow as he ran, and he could do 
that only when the sun was in the middle of the 
sky. 

As they entered the edge of the first group of 
beautiful white trees, Wongo looked all around 
for Kaw, but it was evident he had not arrived, 
as he never waited for Wongo to look for him, as 
his sharp eyes could see the bear a long way, 
and he always knew where the bear was long be¬ 
fore Wongo knew his crow friend was in the same 
neighborhood. 

Weary with the work of the night before, and 
the long journey of the morning, the little bear 
stretched himself out luxuriously on the beautiful 
yellow carpet of the aspen leaves. He would rest 
a bit, he thought. He would not sleep — no, sleep 
was not to be thought of — for Kaw might come 
along at any moment now, and if he were asleep 
the crow might not find him. Shielding his eyes 
from the sun with his paw, he began to think of 
the experiences of the night before by way of 
keeping himself awake, but his thoughts wandered 
into a jumble of Indians with horns, goats on fire, 
and the squaw-man catching crows with arrows 
that had wings — a confusion of thoughts that led 
him into the land of slumber. 

How long he slept he did not know, but he sud- 

61 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

denly became conscious that someone was speaking 
to him, or laughing at him, and he sat up with a 
jerk. On a stump a few feet away sat Kaw, going 
over his wing feathers with his beak by way of 
straightening himself up a bit after a long flight. 
He was mumbling to himself and keeping up, all 
the while, a low chuckle that occasionally rose to 
a laugh. 

Seeing that Wongo was awake he said, “ It is 
well that you take kindly to sleep, friend Wongo,* 
as it is about the only thing that has ever defeated 
your curiosity.” 

“ Oh, I was just resting a bit while I was wait¬ 
ing for you to come,” said Wongo apologetically. 

“ Just resting! ” remarked Kaw dryly. “ So 
I have observed for the past twenty minutes.” 

“ Have you been on that stump for twenty 
minutes? ” asked Wongo sheepishly. 

“ Yes,” replied Kaw. “ Thought I had better 
let you sleep for a while. You and that goat must 
have had a ripping hard run last night. I didn’t 
find the poor animal until about daybreak this 
morning. He was dragging himself slowly down 
the mountain, many miles the other side of the 
canyon, and was the most forlorn looking beast I 
have ever looked upon. Although he looked quite 
thin and dejected, he still had some fire in his eye. 

62 





A Daring Plot 

« 

When the poor rascal caught sight of me he sud¬ 
denly changed his limping shuffle into an upstand¬ 
ing walk, and attempted a swagger that was surely 
funny. I had considerable difficulty in persuading 
him that I wished to tell him how to get home, 
for he was going in exactly the wrong direction. 
After I told him a bit about your experience with 
him, he was so surprised that I should know of 
it he listened to reason quite readily. When I 
finally left him he was still holding to the swagger 
for my benefit, and as he disappeared in the brush 
I thought to myself, if he hasn’t been the boss of 
that sheep corral in the past he will be from 
now on.” 

Wongo did not wish to be impolite enough to 
interrupt the crow’s recital about the goat, but 
he was fairly squirming inside with desire to know 
all about the squaw-man’s hunting trip. Seeing 
that the crow had finished his account of the goat, 
he asked: 

“ Did the squaw-man and the Indians go on their 
hunt? And did they find my trail? And— ” 

“ One question at a time,” interrupted Kaw. 
“ Now that you have told all of the other bears 
about our experience of last night, they will be 
as interested in the outcome as you are. Go call 
them, and I will tell the story to all of you.” 

63 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

Wongo lost no time in rounding up the other 
bears that had come with him, and all seemed 
eager to hear what had happened during the 
squaw-man’s hunting trip. 

As the hears lined up in a row, Kaw took a 
commanding position on a low limb of a tree that 
stood .just in front of them and from the half 
dreamy, half droll expression in his eyes, Wongo 
could see that his friend had something very in¬ 
teresting and perhaps humorous to relate. Pausing 
a moment for absolute quiet, Kaw began: 

“ It was just about daylight when I flew up 
to the tree near the den of old Grouch. I watched 
from my lookout for quite a long time and was 
beginning to get restless when I saw the hunters 
coming in long, single file. The squaw-man, with 
his dogs, was in the lead. He was holding the 
dogs hack with thongs that were tied around their 
necks. The Indian men had rattles and tom-toms, 
though they made no noise. The boys had clubs 
and sticks and some had bows and arrows with 
which to shoot at small game. Far back of the 
squaw-man came the Navahos. They kept to the 
trail, and your tracks were very clear, Wongo, for 
they followed them easily. When they came to 
the place where you and the goat met old Grouch 
they stopped for a look. Then they ran hack and 

64 






A Daring Plot 

forth, and they whispered and talked. They 

looked all around and it was plain they were not 

sure about your tracks. I suspect the goat tracks 

confused them, for your trail stopped at the rock 

and hear tracks seemed ended while goat tracks 

went on. It got on my nerves when they started 

to gather about the high point where you jumped 

over the vine-covered rock, but just about that time 

the dogs got the scent of old Grouch and in no 

time the squaw-man caught sight of his den. He 

told the Indians to go around the den to the rear. 

He said, 4 When I signal, you start the big noise.’ 

Then he handed the leather rope that led his dogs 

to one of the bo vs. 

%/ 

“ Well, soon all the Indians were back of the 
den, all ready to start at the squaw-man’s signal. 
Suddenly there broke loose a most unearthly noise. 
I have never heard anything like it. Talk about 
giving old Grouch a scare! Well, he was the most 
frightened animal I ever saw in my life. At first 
he let out a half-hearted growl, but that soon 
changed to a sound that was half whine and half 
yelp! In a terrible panic he started out of the 
cave and down the trail, lickety-clip, and I thought, 
now the hunter will use his gun, but he didn’t. 
He had in his hand what he called a rope. Then 
I thought, ‘ Well, old Grouch, you’ve got a chance 

65 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 


to get away.’ One end of the rope was tied fast 
to a tree and I soon saw what the squaw-man was 
to do with the other end. He swung that rope 
around his head, and just what happened next I 
couldn’t see, for a cloud of dust arose just where 
the rope and old Grouch met! But when the dust 
settled enough to see — well! ” and Kaw chuckled 
as he thought of what had occurred, and lapsed into 
rhyme as the only medium that would do justice to 
the occasion: 

li Well, there was old Grouch, like a cat in a fit; 

He thrashed and he tumbled, he scratched and he bit! 
But his efforts were vain, the rope held him tight; 

Surely never was bear in more comical plight. 

Pawing the air, on his hind legs he rose, 

But the rope tripped his feet and he lit on his nose. 

And then he got up with a look of surprise, 

And the fire of his anger blazed up in his eyes. 

He growled and he snorted, he kicked up the dirt; 

Though he’d had many bumps, ’twas his pride that was hurt. 
Well, when he had fought ’till he’d worn himself out, 

They tied up his legs with a thong good and stout, 

And rolling him onto a thing called a sled, 

Down through the bed of the canyon they sped.” 


By the time the crow had finished, the bears 
were laughing until the tears ran down their 
cheeks. They danced with glee, and rolled over 
on the ground in fits of mirth, all of which was 

66 





A Daring Plot 

thoroughly enjoyed by Kaw, who looked down upon 
them with a comical twist of his head that showed 
he felt fully satisfied with his adventure and the 
outcome. 

After the noise of laughter had died down, 
Wongo, who was still curious as to the fate of 
old Grouch, asked: 

4 4 Do you suppose they got the old rascal into 
the cage thing, all right? ” 

44 Well, I wanted to make sure of that myself,” 
replied Kaw, 44 so after I had had my breakfast, 
and a bath in the pool at the foot of the canyon, 
I flew out over the foothills to see what was going 
on. There were the squaw-man’s horses trailing 
along over the plain with the wagon thing rolling 
along behind them in a little cloud of dust. As 
I neared the wagon thing I saw- our old friend 
Grouch, safely inside the cage, and pacing back 
and forth like a bee-stung bobcat. I could not 
resist having a bit of fun with the old beggar, so 
as I came up alongside I called out to him: 

4 4 4 Come outside, my old friend! A bear of your age 
Should enjoy a walk through the cool, green sage. ’ 

44 I had to shout it out pretty loud to be heard 
above the rumble of the wagon, but he heard it, 
all right, and the way he looked at me was some- 

67 








Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

thing to be remembered. He growled and butted 
his old head against the sides of the cage thing in 
such a temper I said, ‘ Oh, well, if you must be 
going, I won’t try to detain you any longer.’ Then 
I called out to him as the wagon rumbled away: 

“ * Good-bye, my old friend; a dozen good-byes! 

To see you depart brings tears to my eyes! 

As onward you go, may your speed never slack. 

But let me suggest that you never come back! ’ ’ ’ 

When the crow had finished the account of his 
farewell to Grouch, he flew slowly out over the 
hills, and Wongo was to see him no more until 
they would meet beyond the Black mountains to 
visit the cave of Clio-gay, the Indian boy. 



68 












Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

CHAPTER 1 

AN INDIAN BOY RULER 

This story, dear reader — in you Vll confide — 
Contains a most terrible plot! 

Of this l inform you, and you can decide 
Just whether to read it or not. 

It's a tale of a wild andl wondrous land; 

An account of a man-cub bold, 

Whose life is sought by a desperate band — 

So here is the tale as it's told! 


T HERE were several stories, each supposed 
to be a true account, of how Cho-gay, the lone 
Indian boy, came to live among the Black Hills of 
Timbertangle, a wild, secluded country, where no 
other man-animal ever had lived. 

Probably Kaw, the crow, alone knew the truth. 
That wise old bird, who seemed to know almost 
everything, had told the animals how, several sum¬ 
mers before, he had seen a curious brown spot float- 

69 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

ing down one of tlie flood-swollen streams, clinging 
to a mass of brush. Upon investigation, the spot 
had proven to be a small Indian man-child and, 
when the brush had caught to a branch overhang¬ 
ing the stream from the shore, the little creature 
had finally crawled to land. From that day to 
this, Cho-gay had lived in Timbertangle, seeming 
to be as much at home among the animals as he 
could have been among his own people. 

Where he had come from no one knew, but he 
was accepted on friendly terms by all — except 
the gray-wolf pack. He was looked upon as having 
strange power, that was, somehow, greater even 
than the power of tooth and claw, for his hands 
did many things that clumsy beaks and paws 
could not do. 

Before the coming of Cho-gay, Kil-fang, the 
leader of the gray-wolf pack, had been the feared 
and despised ruler of the Black Hills, but Cho-gay 
had one day put secret fear into his heart. The 
wolf saw a strange deep look in the eyes of the 
Indian boy that he greatly disliked and could not 
understand. Twice had Kil-fang tried to make 
Cho-gay understand that he alone must rule among 
all the animal people of the hills, but each time 
Cho-gay had looked him in the eyes with that 
strange, steady gaze, and had walked slowly to- 

70 






Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

ward him until the wolf had lost power to do any¬ 
thing but slink back, and back, and finally turn 
away. Thereupon this man-child had grunted and 
had made a quick snapping noise with his fingers, 
which somehow seemed to mean that he, and not 
Ivil-fang, was the one with power to lead. 

All this pleased the other animals greatly, for 
they loved Cho-gay, because they had learned that 
he was just, and they despised the great wolf, be¬ 
cause he thought of nothing but to kill and eat. 
And now all knew that Kil-fang had found one 
who did not fear him — one who had greater power 
— and all knew that this meant that the wolf must 
leave the Black Hills with his pack or lose all power 
over it. 

So, with jealous rage in his heart, Kil-fang had 
taken his followers into the north, vowing that he 
would return with a mightier pack, that would eat 
up the thin-skinned Cho-gay, and all others who 
might be so foolish as to dispute his power, or 
stand in the way of the wolf-pack. 

Two winters had passed and, with these years 
of added strength and experience, the Indian boy 
had established a kind of rule and order among 
the animal people of the hills. 

One morning, in the short sunny days of the fall, 
Cho-gay squatted on a flat-topped rock near the 

71 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

entrance to liis cave — a snug little liole at the 
base of a mountain — and scraped the fat from a 
fresh bobcat pelt with a sharp flint knife. As he 
labored he mumbled under his breath as if ad¬ 
dressing the skin: 

“ I wouldn’t have killed you, old Short-tail, but 
the cold of the white frost comes soon, and the 
warm skin must be changed from your back to 
mine. Now that you have gone dead, you have no 
need of it, but as I am alive I can use it with 
much good. You were filled with the long years 
of much living, for I find very little fat on your 
skin, and you could have hunted not much longer — 
one more season, maybe. But I, I am young. 
Kaw says that no more than twelve winters have 
gone since I came to life, and I am filled with 
strength to hunt, and it may be I will have to 
fight, if the evil Kil-fang and his miserable pack 
come from the north to keep the vow Kil-fang has 
made. But Kil-fang is all growl, and is filled with 
much bragging talk; in his heart is fear, and it is 
fear of Clio-gay.’’ 

As a small black shadow flashed across the rock 
beside him, Cho-gay looked up in time to see a 
large black crow alight on the limb of an old juniper 
tree that stood near by. From this perch the bird 
looked down on the man-child, nodding gravely. 

72 






Cho-gay scraped the pelt of a bobcat with a knife 



























Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

“ Welcome, Brother Kaw,” said the hoy. “ Many 
days have passed since you and I have met.” 

Kaw made no immediate reply, hut looked 
steadily at the bohcat skin. Then, in a deep, seri¬ 
ous voice, he said: 

4 ‘ So this is the end of old Short-tail — the most 
noble bohcat that ever robbed a grouse’s nest or 
gobbled up young crows. And Cho-gay, the friend 
of all animals, the leader of Timbertangle, has 
slain him.” 

Although the Indian boy detected a teasing note 
in Raw’s voice, the reference to his friendship for 
all animals produced an unhappy feeling within 
him, and rising to his full height on the rock he 
replied : 

“ The cold of winter comes; Cho-gay must have 
covering for warmth. There was no anger in my 
heart for old Short-tail. He was both old and lame, 
and is it not wiser that 7 have his skin for good 
use than that it should be in the greedy stomach 
of Yap-kii the coyote? Soon he, or one of his 
family, would have hunted him down and eaten 
him.” 

“ Yes,” said Kaw, solemnly, “ what you say 
may be true, but he was such a good friend of all 
birds. He would do most anything for them. How 
he loved them! ” Then in a sad voice he sang: 

75 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“ Oh, here lies the skin of old Bobtail, the cat; 

Our loving old friend is no more. 

When I think of his life, it surprises me that 
Someone didn’t kill him before! ” 

At this Clio-gay grinned, for he had half-feared 
that beneath the mock sadness of his friend was a 
rebuke for what he had done. 

“ To kill only where there is great need is an 
old law of the hills. This you taught me yourself 
when I was yet very little, and I do not break 
the law,” said Cho-gay. 

As he squatted down again to resume his work, 
a soft pad, pad of broad feet was heard coming 
down the trail that led along the mountain side, 
and Kaw remarked, “ Here comes our friend 
Wongo, the bear. I’ll wager that curiosity or 
hunger brings him here, for he always is filled with 
curiosity, even when empty of food.” 

Cho-gay looked over his shoulder as the little 
bear came up, and called out, “ Welcome, brother 
Wongo! Had vou come sooner you would have 
heard a good rhyming talk from the mouth of 
our friend Kaw. It may be that he will again 
say it.” 

“ If the rhyming talk was the kind he makes 
about me, I don’t think I missed much,” said 
the little bear crossly. Then, as he seated himself 

76 






ee "Welcome , Brother Kaic,” said Cho-gay 


























Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

on the rock, lie caught sight of the bobcat skin, 
and with eyes wide with wonder he exclaimed: 

“ Who is it that leaves his hide for another to 
use? Did you kill him in a fair fight, or in a 
trap? Was he— ” 

But the voice of Kaw broke in before the last 
question was finished: 

“ Did you? Was he? Oh what and who? 

How very inquisitive are we. 

Oh, we must know all about all that you do, 

For we’re curious as curious can be.” 

“ Well, if that’s the kind of silly talk you were 
making before I came, I’m glad I did not hear it,” 
said Wongo. 

“ It’s too bad you can’t appreciate the work of 
a real poet,” said Kaw sadly, “ but I suppose 
when one is hungry his judgment is affected. ” 

At a sudden noise, half bark and half whine, 
that came from a point a little above the cave’s 
entrance, Cho-gay rose, picked up a handful of 
the fat that had been scraped from the skin, and 
went up to a flat rock on the hillside. Moving the 
stone ever so little, he called out: 

“Stop the noise, you little sharp-nosed thief! 
Your whining will bring all the fox family here 
to ask questions why I have shut you up. Here is 

79 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

all you get this day,” lie added as lie tossed the 
fat through the crack. “ Many days will go be¬ 
fore you are out. Twice you have been a thief, 
and this time you w T ill be a long time behind the 
rock so that you will learn that it is not good to 
steal the dried meat from Clio-gay.” 

Kaw and Wongo wmtched this performance with 
great interest, and the little bear wanted to ask 
many questions, but he feared the teasing remarks 
that w T ould surelv follow. As it turned out, he 
heard all that he wanted to know without asking. 

After the fox had been silenced with the scraps 
of fat, two other prisoners were visited and fed; 
one an old mountain sheep, and the other a young 
bobcat. At the hole, or small cave, where the 
sheep was confined, the Indian boy spoke to his 
prisoner: 

“ Old Twisted-horns, three more days and you 
will again run over the hills as honest people run, 
but if you again steal corn from me your skin will 
become a covering for the floor in the cave of 
Clio-gay.” The old sheep made no reply, but ate 
what was given him in sullen silence. 

At the prison of the bobcat the Indian boy 
peered in through the crack beside the slab of rock 
that served as a door, and then picked up a rope 
of stout buckskin that ran into the prison from the 

80 






Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

outside. As he pulled it there came an angry snarl 
from within. 

“So!” exclaimed Clio-gay. “ You are still 
filled with anger. I will not take the rope from 
your neck until you speak more softly. I know 
the hole is too small for you, but here you shall 
remain until old Twisted-horns is free. Then you 
will go into his house, but you shall not be free 
until Cho-gay has taught you to keep the laws of 
Timbertangle. ’ ’ 

As he returned to his work in front of his cave, 
the Indian boy remarked to his callers, “ While 
Cho-gay lives in the Black Hills all thieves that 
are caught will be made to obey the law of the 
hills. There was great anger in Big-paw, the cat, 
when he caught himself in the rope trap, yet he 
was stealing meat from my cave when the rope 
went round his head. When I came he wanted to 
fight, but a twist and a quick pull, and Cho-gay 
had him without breath to snarl. How he shall not 
go free until the hunger in his stomach has eaten 
up his anger. They that steal shall be punished. 
Is it not a just law, my brothers? ” 

“ It is just,” said Kaw. 

“ Yes, it has the sound of being just,” said 
Wongo, “ but when there is hunger and poor hunt¬ 
ing, the hunter must have food.” 

81 










Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

At this remark, Kaw cocked his head on one side 
and looked keenly at the little bear. Then he 
said, “ About an hour ago, while I was flying over 
the twin hills, I saw an aged mountain sheep who 
had been driven from the flock by the young rams.” 

“ Where was that? ” asked Wongo eagerly, as 
he got to his feet. 

“ On the cliffs above the aspen trees, on the south 
side of the first hill,” said Kaw. 

Scarcely were the last words of the crow spoken 
before the little bear was speeding away toward 
the place where Kaw had seen the sheep. 

“ I have sharp eyes,” said Cho-gay, addressing 
the crow, “ but how is it that you have eyes that 
can see hunger in the stomach of a bear? ” 

“ Have you not learned that hunger makes all 
of us cross? It is only when our friend Wongo 
is very hungry that he is cross, and we do not have 
to see crossness. We sometimes hear it. Hunger 
will not take the anger away from Big-paw, the 
cat. If you feed him and give him more room he 
will soon lose his anger,” continued Kaw, “and 
it is because he is a captive, and not because of 
hunger, that he will learn to be honest.” 

“ Your words have the sound of wisdom,” said 
the Indian boy, rising, “ and I shall see if they are 
not true.” 


82 






Cho-gay of Timbertangle 


Going up to the flat rock that covered the en¬ 
trance to the prison of the old mountain sheep, he 



rolled it to one side. A moment later the astonished 
sheep leaped out and dashed away up the side of 
the mountain. Kaw watched this performance with 

83 












Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

keenest interest. Passing on to the prison of the 
bobcat, Cho-gay picked up the buckskin rope with 
one hand and drew his knife from his belt with 
the other. Then pulling the flat stone from the 
mouth of the hole he gave the rope a sudden pull. 
The bobcat came tumbling out, and before it could 
regain its feet it was dragged to the former prison 
of the mountain sheep, too dazed to realize what 
had happened before it was in new quarters and 
the stone door lifted into place. 

“ Very quickly and neatly done,” said Kaw, in 
admiration. Then he added in a low tone to him¬ 
self, “Our friend Wongo should have good hunt¬ 
ing to-day, for if he should miss the old sheep on 
the cliff, he will surely get old Twisted-horns, who 
is making for the same place.” 

As the Indian bov returned to his cave to get 
food for the young bobcat, there arose the sound 
of many yapping voices from the sagebrush below. 

“ News! News for Brother Cho-gay! ” came the 
voices. A thin, sharp-nosed coyote emerged from 
the edge of the sage and stood a little in the open, 
as though he feared to come nearer. Then the 
heads of three or four of his followers were poked 
from the brush, as though to lend support to their 
timid leader, and to see the great man-child to 
whom their remarks had been addressed. 

84 






Cho-gay of Timbertangle 


“ News is of no use until it is told,” said Clio- 
gay. “ Speak up, Brother Fearful. What is there 
to tell! ” 

‘‘Is it not a law among us that if one makes a 
lie, and tells it against a brother, he shall be 
punished! ” asked Fearful. 

“It is a law,” replied Cho-gay. “ Who is it 
that breaks the law! ” 

“ It is Sandy, the red fox, who has made a great 
lie, saying that he has flown like an eagle from 
the valley to the top of Skull-top mountain, and 
that as he left the top to come down, a rock fell 
and rolled rown to the valley. And that our old 
cousin, Rip, the outcast wolf, who is very brave, 
ran in great fear, believing that the mountain was 
tumbling down. So our cousin Rip is made a 
coward in the eyes of all, because of the lie.” 

“ Where is your cousin Rip that he does not 
come to accuse the fox! ” asked Cho-gay. 

“ He and Sandy hunt together, and he is afraid 
to make Sandy angry. Why, we know not,” an¬ 
swered Fearful. 

At the sound of a chuckle from the juniper tree, 
Cho-gay looked up to see Kaw shaking with 
laughter. Paying no heed to this, he again spoke 
to the coyote: 

“ All know that a fox cannot flv through the 

85 










Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

air to a mountain top. Go, bring this maker of 
lies to me and we shall hear his story from his 
own mouth.” 

This order was evidently what the coyotes 
wanted, for they quickly vanished into the brush. 

When they had gone, Kaw could scarce contain 
himself for mirth. Anticipating the scene that 
would follow when Sandy, the fox, faced Cho-gay, 
he hopped up and down as he sang: 

“ Tis a funny old world, for often I see 
The right of a thing turned about, 

And when it occurs, then we say ‘ it can’t be,’ 

Till proof makes it true without doubt.” 

As the old crow spread his wings to depart, 
Cho-gay asked, “ Does that rhyming talk mean 
that a fox might fly! ” 

“ It might! ” said Kaw from over his wing as he 
flew away. 


86 






CHAPTER 2 


THE FOX AND THE WOLF 

I N THE afternoon of the day following the visit 
of the coyotes to the cave of Cho-gay, a dapper 
little red fox and a gaunt, one-eyed, old timber-wolf 
trotted over a narrow trail that led along the rim 
of a canyon. 

They were Sandy, or Red-eagle Fox, as he loved 
to call himself, and Rip, the veteran outcast of a 
once great pack. Why this strange pair hunted 
together w T as a mystery to all but Kaw, the crow. 
He knew that it was because the conceited little 
fox, who never tired of boasting of his supposed 
skill as a hunter, felt it a great compliment to be 
permitted to hunt with a real wolf, and that old 
Rip endured the companionship of the boastful little 
fox for the simple reason that when game is to be 
found, two sharp, young eyes are better than one 
old one. In truth, the old wolf knew that his days 
of hunting alone were gone. 

The alert little fox, filled with false pride and 
great vanity, formed a strange contrast to Rip, for 

87 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

even a casual observer would have noticed that 
the old wolf had passed a long way beyond the 
prime of life. Old Rip’s left eye had been lost in 
one of the numerous battles he had been called 
upon to fight, but the right eye still retained some 
of its former fire; a part of one ear was missing, 
but he could hear with it very well. As he ran, it 
could be seen that his joints were not just as limber 
as they once had been. His greatest characteristic 
was an insatiable appetite; he was always hungry. 
But, in spite of all this, he was a wolf, and that 
fact made him great in the eyes of Sandy, the fox. 

While on hunting trips, the luck of this strange 
pair was a very uncertain thing, but usually the 
little fox managed to catch a rabbit or some birds, 
and old Rip was always careful to pay his partner 
some gruff compliment before devouring the larger 
portion of the game. 

Secretly Kaw enjoyed the fox and wolf, as they 
afforded him many a quiet chuckle, of which they 
were ignorant. Because of his interest, Kaw fre¬ 
quently helped them to find game when hunting 
was poor, and the two learned to look upon him 
as a valued friend. 

On this particular afternoon, the hunters were in 
no pleasant mood, for it was growing late and 
they had killed nothing since early morning but a 

88 






Sandy, the fox, and Old Rip, the timber-wolf 











Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

small grouse, which did not satisfy their appetite 
for long. 

As they stuck close to the trail, it was evident 
that, though hungry, they were on some business 
other than hunting. 

“ How much farther is it to this bear’s den? ” 
growled Rip, who was beginning to weary of the 
journey. 

“ Only a little way now,” replied the fox. “ Soon 
we will go up the mountain side a short distance, 
and then we are there.” 

The old wolf made no reply to this, but trotted 
doggedly along after his companion. Wishing to 
turn Rip’s thoughts to less tiresome things than 
trails and distances, the little fox asked, “ How 
did you learn that Kil-fang and his pack are re¬ 
turning to the Black Hills? ” 

11 I have ears, haven’t I? ” growled Rip. “ When 
there is news of a kill abroad, I hear of it, and there 
will be good hunting for many of us when the pack 
comes down the north canyon. All animals will 
run over the hills to the broad valley to get out of 
the way of Kil-fang, and it is there 1 shall be 
before them.” 

44 I also will be there,” remarked the fox, and 
each of these brave hunters had visions of the 
great number of rabbits, squirrels, and small 

91 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

animals that would swarm over the hills and into 
the valley to the east, as the wolf pack came through 
the canyon that opened into the Black Hill region 
on the north. 

44 When does the pack come! ” asked the fox. 

“ Yap-kii, the coyote, gave me the news,” re¬ 
plied Rip, “ and he says the pack now numbers 
more than fifty, and that they will come into the 
Black Hills when the moon is again at the full. 
I have no liking for this Clio-gay, hut I have less 
for the strutting Kil-fang, and I shall howl the 
death howl with great happiness if the Indian 
man-child kills him and drives his boastful pack 
again into the north.” 

“ It is not many days from now that the moon is 
at the full,” said the fox, “ no more than a dozen, 
at most. Does anyone but Yap-kii and you know 
about the coming of the pack! ” 

“ No one,” replied Rip, 44 for he does not dare 
to tell Fearful and his brothers, as they talk too 
much, and the rabbits and squirrels have sharp 
ears.” 

Suddenly a voice that came from the limb of a 
cottonwood tree above their heads called out: 

“ Two bold, brave hunters are we, 

As all who will look can see. 


92 





Cho-gay of Tirnbertangle 

To fight the fierce rabbit, 

With us is a habit; 

We fear nothing that’s smaller than we — 

Let’s see — 

We mean smaller and weaker than we!” 

At the sound of Raw’s voice, for it was he, the 
spirits of the two hungry hunters began to rise, 
for now there was hope of finding something to 
eat. 

“ Where are we going, so far from home, on 
so fine an afternoon? ” inquired the crow. Then 
without waiting for a reply, he continued, “ I’ll 
guess you are just out for a quiet stroll after 
eating a nice meal of fat mountain sheep and 
jack-rabbit.” 

At the mention of such delicious food old Rip 
licked his chops, and the little fox squirmed un¬ 
easily. As usual he spoke for the two: 

“ We certainly would have had a fine meal if 
we had been on one of our regular hunting trips, 
for as you know I always bag my game, and there 
is no greater hunter than— ” 

“ Then you have had poor hunting to-day? ” 
broke in Raw, who did not care to hear the boastful 
remarks that he knew the little fox was getting 
ready to make. 

“ Yes, that’s just it,” replied the little fox. “ As 

93 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

I was saying, we are on our way to make an im¬ 
portant call, and though we have come a great 
distance, there has been nothing good to eat within 
sight or sound of us since dawn.” 

At that moment the keen eves of the old crow 
caught sight of a short line of moving animals far 
back along the canyon rim, but though his eyes 
twinkled as he realized that Fearful and his broth¬ 
ers were trailing the little fox, to tell him of 
Cho-gay’s order, he said nothing to the two hunters, 
who were ignorant of the fact that they were being 
followed. 

“ Well,” said Kaw, “ as I flew over the sage 
that is just around the point ahead of you, I saw 
a number of jack-rabbits that were headed up the 
mountain. If you cut in above the trail you will 
head them off! 

Instantly the two hunters sprang forward to¬ 
ward the place indicated, each trying to be first, and 
neither remembering to thank the old crow for the 
information he had given them. 

“ So they are making an important call,” said 
Kaw to himself, as he watched the odd pair loping 
away up the mountain side. “ It’s quite plain 
who they are calling upon. I wonder what kind of 
a plot is in the wind now.” Then he looked back 
far down the canvon trail, where the small line of 

94 





Cho-gay of Timber tangle 

coyotes were slowly approaching, and chuckled to 
himself as he flew off over the mountain. 

Less than half an hour later, Rip and Sandy had 
managed to kill two jack-rabbits, and were trotting 
along the well-worn little trail that led to the cave 
of Wongo, the bear. Suddenly the fox, who was in 
the lead, stopped beside some jack-oak bushes and 
spoke to his companion: 

“ You can wait here, friend Rip, while I talk to 
Wongo, for you see he must not know that you 
are in this plan of ours. If he learns that you 
are interested in the escape of the mountain sheep, 
or I should say in eating the sheep after it has 
escaped, he would tell Cho-gay. If this Indian 
man-child hears of it, you would never get the 
sheep, and my brother might not be set free in 
time to escape Kil-fang and his pack.” 

“ I keep my word,” replied Rip, who was in a 
better humor after the meal of the jack-rabbit. 
“ But remember,” he added warningly, “ I am 
to have the mountain sheep in return for telling 
you the news of Kil-fang and the pack. Go on; 
I’ll wait for you here.” 

Sandy trotted up the trail, leaving his com¬ 
panion, who was glad enough to rest his weary 
bones after so long a journey. 

A few minutes later the fox, after announcing 

95 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

his presence with a short bark, poked his head 
into the bear’s cave and called out, “ A good 
evening to you, Brother Wongo. I hope I am 
not interrupting a nap.” 

“ No,” replied the little bear, who was suddenly 
curious to know why Sandy was so far from his 
own hunting grounds, “ but I am just getting ready 
to take a walk into the canyon. What brings you 
to the cave of Wongo? ” 

“ I have just been on one of my famous hunting 
trips,” replied Sandy. “ I often make long jour¬ 
neys when in search of big game, for, as you may 
know, I am one of the greatest — ’ ’ 

“ All right,” cut in Wongo, who had learned 
from Kaw about Sandy’s habit of boasting, “ but 
what brings you here? ” 

“As I was just saying,” replied the fox, 4 4 I 
was passing this way, and thought I’d just drop 
in to see you, and perhaps ask a question or two 
that you might be able to answer.” Sandy looked 
anxiously at the little bear. 

“ Go on,” said Wongo, whose curiosity was 
growing. 

“ I have just heard that you visited the cave of 
Cho-gay, the man-child, yesterday, and it may be 
that you can tell me something about him. They 
say that he has many animals that he keeps as 

96 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 


prisoners in little holes in the rocks near his cave, 
and that he does not let them out. Is it so? ” 

“ He has only three animals,’’ replied Wongo, 
“ and he keeps them shut up because they steal, 
and so have not kept the law. One is a mountain 
sheep, who stole his corn, another is a young bob¬ 
cat, who stole or tried to steal dried meat from 
his cave, and the third is a fox who has twice 
stolen from him, but will not steal again very 
soon.” 

The little fox remained silent for a few moments, 
not knowing just how to gain the real information 
he had come for, but just as the impatient Wongo 
was about to ask him to go on, he remarked, “ All 
say that this Cho-gay knows all animal talk, that 
he can do strange things, and that he carries a 
long, sharp claw with which he can kill very quickly 
when he wishes to. Is it so? ” 

“ That he can do strange things is true, and the 
thing you call a claw is a knife,” said Wongo, 
and he took on a superior air as he gave this in¬ 
formation, for he was quite proud of his knowledge 
of Cho-gay. 

“ Could he kill the gray-wolf pack if it should 
come? ” asked Sandy. 

“ That is a silly question,” replied Wongo. 
“ No one could kill the pack single handed, unless 

97 








Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

lie had as many heads and as many teeth as the 
pack, and of course we know that no such animal 
lives in Timbertangle. ’ ’ 

“ Would Cho-gay shut me up if I went to tell him 
something he would like to hear? ” inquired Sandy. 

“ No, if what you tell is true. But why not tell 
me, who know him, and I can tell him for you,” 
suggested the little bear, whose curiosity was now 
thoroughly aroused. 

“ No,” replied Sandy, “ I have reasons why I 
must tell him myself; I have valuable information 
to give him and — well, it may be that I will ask 
him for something in return.” 

“ Oh, very well,” said Wongo with pretended 
indifference. “ I can’t see that the matter concerns 
me, so I will bid you good-’ ’ 

“ Yes, yes! ” broke in the fox quickly, “ It does 
concern you, as I want you to take me to this Cho- 
gay, for I have never seen him except from a great 
distance and —well, you could tell him who I am, 
you know, and that we are close friends, and about 
my reputation as a great-” 

“ Ho, ho! ” grunted Wongo. “ You mean that 
we are acquainted because we both happen to be 
friends of Kaw, the crow.” 

“ Just that,” said the fox, who wished to be very 
agreeable to the little bear. “ By the way, did you 

98 







Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

—■- — ■ - ■ - . - ,i ■ -—-- ■ 

happen to hear Cho-gay say just when he expected 
to free the mountain sheep and the fox? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Wongo, who was anxious to show 
his caller that he knew a great deal about the doings 
of the ruler of the Black Hills, “I heard him say 
that the mountain sheep is to go free in three days, 
that’s the day after to-morrow, but the fox is to be 
kept for a long time, as he is a great thief and has 
twice broken the law.” 

The little fox squirmed uneasily when the last 
statement was made, but his uneasiness escaped 
the notice of the bear. 

“ But what has all that to do with the great 
secret that you have to tell Cho-gay? ” asked 
Wongo. 

“ You will learn all that if you will just agree to 
accompany me to his cave, and if you would — 
well, just tell him that I am Red-eagle Fox, the 
hunter.” 

Wongo made no reply for some time, merely for 
the impressive effect his silence would have on his 
caller. 

“ Yes,” he said at length, “ although it is a long, 
hard trip from here to Cho-gay’s cave, and I have 
no love for long trips, I can see no great reason 
why I should not do you the favor to accompany 
you. Then, too, Cho-gay may want my advice.” 

99 






I 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

Before Sandy could make any reply to this, five 
silent gray figures suddenly appeared in a semi¬ 
circle behind him and Fearful, the coyote, spoke. 

“ Brother Sandy is wanted by our leader, the 
Indian man-child. There is a tale that our brother, 
the fox, has been telling and Cho-gay would hear 
it from his own mouth.” 

At this announcement the little fox began to swell 
with pride, and all interest in Wongo vanished. 

“ Ah, it is well that you bring me word from our 
great leader, Brother Fearful.” Then turning to 
Wongo, “ I will not need your company after all, 
Wongo, so I will bid you good-day.” 

“ Well, I will be glad to accompany you any¬ 
way,” said Wongo hastily, as he followed his caller 
out of the cave entrance, for he had no intention of 
missing the chance to learn what mysterious news 
Sandy had for Cho-gay. 

“ It will not be necessary now that he has sent 
for me,” replied Sandy. 

“ I fully intended to visit Cho-gay again very 
soon, anyway, Brother Sandy, and it suits me just 
as well to go along with you now. Of course,” 
added the little bear, “ he will see no one until the 
sun is up, and we could not get to his cave much 
before dawn.” 

“ Don’t trouble yourself about it,” said the fox 

100 



t < (■ 





Brother Bandy is wanted,” said Fearful 



■»* 










Cho-gay of Timbertangle 


coolly, “ for I am sure he will not want any but 
very important members of Timbertangle to hear 
the news I have for him.” With this he started 
down the trail followed by the five coyotes. 

The little bear watched them depart and decided 
that he would be at the cave of Cho-gay before 
them. After he had given them time to get a good 
start down the trail, he ambled down the path think¬ 
ing of all that had taken place and wondering what 
could be the great news that Sandy had to tell. So 
occupied was he with his thoughts, he did not notice 
a black object perched on the low limb of a tree 
near the trail, but he looked up as a voice sang out: 

“ Oh, here comes a bear; a pigeon-toed bear, 

And that is as plain as can be. 
lie lives in a den, it’s really a pen, 

And I’d much rather live in a tree; 

That’s me! 

It’s much nicer to live in a tree. 

“ Wherever he goes, he turns in his toes, 

Except when he scratches and bites, 

And it’s sad to relate, he’s often out late! 

Oh, what does he do with his nights? 

Just fights! 

Yes, that’s what he does with his nights! ” 

“ I don’t either,” growled Wongo, pretending to 
be angry at his old friend, "and my cave isn’t a 

103 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

pen either. But what could a squawking old crow 
know about caves? ” 

44 I believe I smell a wolf,” said Kaw, changing 
the subject, and he stuck his beak in the air in imi¬ 
tation of animals who sniff for a scent. 

44 Yes,” said Wongo, as he too sniffed the air, 
44 I hadn’t noticed it before, but I too smell a wolf. 
Sandy the fox just stopped at my cave a few min¬ 
utes ago to ask me to take him to the cave of Clio- 
gay, but that old one-eyed partner of his was not 
with him.” 

44 No? ” queried Kaw, with a chuckle. Then he 
cocked his head on one side and continued: 

44 Well, it’s just as I thought, 

There’s a gay little plot; 

It’ll be about something to eat, 

And there’s some axe to grind, 

As we’re sure to find; 

No doubt in exchange for fresh meat.” 

44 What do you mean by all that string of 
words? ” asked Wongo. 

44 Nothing, nothing very important,” replied 
Kaw. 44 We’ll soon see for ourselves. Did Fearful, 
the coyote, come to your cave while Sandy was 
there? ” 

44 Yes, he did,” said Wongo. 44 There were four 

104 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

other coyotes with him, and they told Sandy that 
Cho-gay wanted to see him about some important 
matter. What’s it all about? Do you know? ” 

“ I suspect I know something about it,” said 
Kaw, “ but not enough to tell. When do Sandy 
and the coyotes and Rip, the wolf, go to see Cho- 
gay? ” 

“ I don’t know about old Rip,” said Wongo, 
“ but Sandy and the coyotes have started to-night 
and I am going too, but I expect to be there when 
they arrive.” 

“ Well, you can bet that the old wolf is trailing 
along after them. The old rascal was with Sandy 
to-day, and there is some good reason why they 
did not want you to know that he was around. Did 
the fox say anything about things they are plan¬ 
ning to kill or eat? ” 

“ No,” replied Wongo, “ he only asked if I knew 
when Cho-gay intended to free old Twisted-horns, 
the mountain sheep, and the fox that are shut up 
in the rocks near Cho-gay’s cave.” 

“ What did you tell him ? ” asked Kaw. 

“ I told him that the sheep was to be free in 
three days, and the fox was to be kept prisoner for 
a long time, as he had twice broken the law. ’ ’ 

“ By the way,” said Kaw, “ I see from your 
good humor that you must have had good hunting 

105 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

yesterday. Did you find the old mountain sheep on 
the cliffs ! ” 

“ No, I didn’t find him on the cliffs, or near the 
aspen trees. But I got him. I must have passed 
him on the way up, for when I had given up hope 
of finding him, I turned back down the trail and 
near the bottom of the hills I ran right into him. 
He was coming up so fast he didn’t see me. Those 
young rams in his flock must be good at fighting to 
turn him out of the flock, for he didn’t look like any 
outcast.” And then the little bear couldn’t under¬ 
stand why Kaw should laugh so long and hard over 
such simple news. 

“ I am glad you found a sheep even if it wasn’t 
the one I sent you to get,” said the crow, at length, 
“ and it was lucky for you that I induced Cho-gay 
to free Twisted-horns when he did.” 

‘ ‘ Do you mean that I got the old sheep that Cho- 
gay had shut up in the rocks! ” asked Wongo in 
great excitement. 

“ Well, it looks that way to me,” said Kaw. 
Then changing the subject abruptly, he said, “ If 
you are to be at Cho-gay’s cave by sunrise you will 
want to amble along. I think I’ll be there, too, but 
I can sleep half the night first and then be there 
before the rest of you.” 

As the little bear started down the trail Kaw flew 

106 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 


along beside him for a little way and as he flew 
he sang: 

“ Mr. Wolf and a bobcat had a fight, 

Down in the hollow where the timber grows thick; 
In just one minute Mr. Wolf took flight — 

He was in a hurry, and lookin’ quite sick! 

“ Yes, old Mr. Wolf he ran away, 

With a seratched-up nose and a bunged-up eye. 

And he’s scared of bobcats to this day, 

And he shakes with fear when he hears one cry! ” 


107 





CHAPTER 3 


SANDY TELLS A TALE 


L ONG before the dawn of the following morn¬ 
ing, Wongo settled himself behind a thick 
clump of bushes a short distance from Cho-gay’s 
cave and waited. 

About the time the first streaks of dawn lighted 
the east, Sandy, followed by his escort of coyotes, 
which by this time had grown to include about all 
of the coyote family, trotted up through the sage 
below the flat rock and seated themselves in the 
clearing. 

Wongo, who could see without being seen, had 
decided not to show himself, for, in fact, he did not 
care to have even a coyote know that mere curiosity 
had led him on the long night journey. 

He looked all about him in the bushes and trees 
for Kaw, but if the old crow had arrived, he was 
too well hidden to be seen. Then he looked among 
the coyotes for old Kip, but he was not there. Had 
the little bear been in a position to see behind the 
rocks that stood above Cho-gay’s cave, he would 
have seen the wolf crouched behind one that stood 

108 


Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

above the little cave in which the old mountain 
sheep had been confined. The sheep had been kept 
in this hole long enough to leave a strong scent 
behind him, and Rip had no difficulty in locating 
the right spot. 

“ Here,” thought he, “ I will remain until my 
partner, Sandy, gets Cho-gay into the cave to hear 
the secret news, and then a strong push will upset 
the flat rock that imprisons the sheep, and the rest 
will be easy and satisfying.” 

The greedy old wolf licked his great chops, as he 
thought of the juicy taste of fresh mutton, and 
could hardly wait for the time when the Indian 
man-child would come out and invite Sandy into 
the cave. Surely this would be a great day for 
Rip and the fox. As for the coyotes, they were 
nothing, and they knew enough to give their great 
cousin a wide berth until he permitted them to 
come and gnaw on the sheep bones that he might 
leave for them. 

Just as the sun peeped over the hills, Cho-gay 
came out of his cave and yawned as he stretched 
his arms over his head. Sandy, who had never 
taken his eyes from the cave entrance since he 
arrived, mistook the upraised arms for a signal for 
him to approach and he trotted boldly up to the 
flat rock. 


109 










Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“A good-morning* to yon, Brother Clio-gay. I 
am here to know what you would like to hear from 
the mouth of Bed-eagle Fox, the hunter.” 

Cho-gay, who was never in very good humor 
before breakfast, stared at his caller and then at 
the row of coyotes seated in the clearing below. 

“ So you are the rascal who they say is a maker 
of lies. We will have ears for your strange story 
when I have had food,” said Cho-gay as he returned 
to his cave. 

This remark had the effect of a dash of cold 
water on the boastful little Sandy, and the row of 
grins that faced him from the escort below did not 
add to his comfort. But he turned his back on 
them and waited as patiently as he could for the 
reappearance of Cho-gay. 

A few minutes later the Indian boy came out and, 
seating himself on the flat rock, commanded the 
now timid Sandy to tell his story about flying like 
an eagle to the top of Skull-top mountain. 

Although he had rehearsed the story again and 
again during his journey to the cave, the little fox 
now told it in such a halting manner that Cho-gay, 
Wongo and the coyotes were very certain that it 
was untrue. 

“ You would have us believe,” said Cho-gay, 
“ that you flew through— ” 

110 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

“ That I jumped into the air,” corrected Sandy, 
“ from the sage of the valley and did not light 
until I reached the highest cliffs on Skull-top moun¬ 
tain. And while I was up there, where no fox had 
ever been before, a big rock rolled down and when 
Rip, my hunting partner, heard it he ran in great 
fear up the valley, shouting i The mountain is fall¬ 
ing! The mountain is falling! ’ ” 

“ You have no wings and can jump but a little 
way,” said Cho-gay, “ so it is plain to all that your 
words are not true.” Then he called out to the 
coyotes below, “ You have heard the words of the 
fox. Are they true? ” 

1 i No—No—No!—They are lies! ” came the re¬ 
plies. 

Then to the surprise of all present, a loud, “ Yes! 
They are true!” came from the top of the old 
juniper tree and Kaw flew down to a bush beside 
the flat rock. 

At this the eyes of Cho-gay went wide in surprise 
and Wongo, the bear, forgetting that he had been 
hiding, raised up with a grunt of amazement. Both 
the Indian boy and the little bear had known Kaw 
a long, long time and neither had ever doubted his 
honesty. 

Wongo, now that all knew he was there, came 
forward a bit sheepishly, but the others were too 

111 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

surprised at the crow’s remark to consider him. 

44 Do you make a joke, Brother Kaw? ” asked 
Cho-gay. 

44 No,” replied the crow, 44 the funniest part of 
Sandy’s story is that it is all true.” 

44 I think I must go now,” said the little fox, who 
seemed to have been made very nervous by the 
unexpected appearance of the crow. 44 Brother 
Kaw, could I see you privately for a minute before 
I go? ’ 

44 No one shall leave until this matter is settled,” 
said Cho-gay, as he rose to his feet. 44 Our Brother 
Kaw says the words of the fox are true; let us hear 
ivhy he says so.” 

44 You do not doubt the word of Kaw,” cried 
Sandy desperately. 44 Why should he tell— ” 

4 4 Let Brother Kaw tell! Let him tell! Let him 
tell! ” came the voices of the coyotes. 

44 Let us hear the proof, Brother Kaw,” added 
Wongo. 

44 Our ears are waiting for the proof,” said Cho- 
gay, as he folded his arms commandingly. 

No word or act of the situation had escaped the 
old crow and he was.enjoying himself more than 
he had for many a day. Clearing his croaking 
voice, he began: 

44 It was this way, for our Brother Sandy did 

112 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

pass through the air just as he has said. One even¬ 
ing I saw Sandy and Rip coming down through the 
sage valley on the other side of Skull-top mountain. 
I could see that they were tired and hungry and I 
said to myself, 4 I shall tell them where to find 
good hunting.’ I flew over to a tree under which 
they would pass and as they came -beneath it I 
called out: 

“ 4 To the fierce and the strong, we two belong; 
That’s why we’re fat and merry. 

Oh, we’re out for game that’s strong or lame, 

And we always get our quarry! 

“ 4 So give us meat that’s good to eat, 

Or we ’ll fill you all with terror! 

We’re out to kill, and that we will, 

If it takes us two together! ’ 

44 Then when they had stopped I said, 4 Down the 
valley a little way are some nice fat rabbits and 
what is still better, there are some nice, big rabbit- 
hawks circling around just above where they are 
hiding in the sage.’ 

44 4 Fine,’ said Sandv. ‘ We can catch rabbits but 
how could we catch a hawk? ’ 

44 4 That is easy,’ said I, for I have no use for 
hawks. 4 Come along and I will show you.’ When 
we got almost to the sagebrush where I had seen 

113 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

the rabbits, I said, ‘ Now, Sandy. Go and catch a 
fat rabbit, but do not eat it.’ Rip growled at such 
instruction, but I told him to wait and that if they 
followed my instructions they would have both hawk 
and rabbit. Then they both sat quiet while I told 
them what to do. 

‘‘ When you have killed a rabbit/ said I, ‘ drag 
him to the edge of the sage and lay him down in 
the open near a sagebrush. Then crouch down 
beside the brush ready to spring. In no time, as 
you both know, a hawk will see Mr. Rabbit and 
make a dive for him. Rip can hide here in the 
jack-oak bushes to wait for you and I will fly to the 
top of the tall pinyon tree where I can signal to 
you when to jump. When I see a hawk about to 
swoop down for the dead rabbit I will give a loud 
caw. Then jump for Mr. Hawk and you’ll have 
both hawk and rabbit.’ 

“ 1 Fine! Fine! ’ said both of the hunters, and 
it was not long before Sandy — who is really a 
wonderful hunter — had a rabbit and laid it out 
beside a big sagebrush just as I had directed him 
to do. Then as I watched with great joy for the 
coming of a hawk, there came a sudden black 
shadow from out of the blue sky above and I almost 
fell off the limb as I recognized old Baldy, the 
eagle, swooping down on the rabbit. I gave one 

114 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

loud scream to warn Sandy, but he mistook my 
scream for the signal to jump and a moment later 
the claws of Baldy had closed on the hide of Sandy 
instead of the rabbit. And away he flew to his nest 
at the top of Skull-top mountain. I don’t think that 
Baldy knew that he had missed the rabbit and 
caught a fox until he let Sandy fall beside his nest 
on the cliffs. In the meantime old Rip had eaten 
the rabbit and run up to the foot of the mountain 
to see if Sandy would come back. 

“ When Sandy found himself free from the claws 
of the surprised Baldy, he ran behind a rock where 
the eagle could not reach him and as I flew up the 
mountain I could see old Baldy scolding and 
screaming around the rock, and the bushy tail of 
Sandy sticking out from behind it. 

4 4 Baldy was too angry and excited to notice 
me and, as it was my advice that had gotten Sandy 
into his plight, I flew along looking for help. On a 
trail a short distance from Baldy’s nest I found 
old Grayhead, the bear, and I asked him to go up 
and keep Baldy away from the rock so that Sandy 
could run for cover. 

“ Grayhead did as I told him and in the mix-up 
the old bear rolled the stone down the mountain 
side to scare Baldv. Well, the stone scared some- 
one else more than it did Baldy, for as it rattled 

115 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

over the rocks and sand I saw Old Rip, the wolf, 
with his ears laid back and his tail between his legs, 
dashing madly across the valley in a cloud of dust. 
I had to fly like sixty to get near him. I shouted 
to him to stop and that there was no danger, but 
the louder I called the faster he ran. I stopped 
when I saw it was no use trying to keep up and the 
last I saw of him he was running across the third 
valley and still going like the wind! ’ ’ 

As Kaw ended his story, and the loud laughter of 
Wongo, the coyotes and Cho-gay had died down, 
the Indian boy spoke: 

“ Brothers, the words of our Brother Sandy are 
then true, and though he did not tell us how he flew 
to the mountain top, he made no lie.” 

As the laugh seemed to have turned on old Rip 
instead of himself, the little fox felt more at ease. 
Then, suddenly remembering that he had important 
news for Cho-gay, he hastily arose and said: 

“ Brother Cho-gay, I had almost forgotten that 
I have very important news to tell you, and it may 
mean life or death to many of us. And,” he added 
nervously, as he glanced up toward the rocks above 
the cave’s entrance, “ I must tell it to you alone. 
Can we go into your cave while I tell it? ” 

“ Yes,” spoke up Kaw, who now saw what none 
of the others but Sandy could see — that Rip lay 

116 





Rip meets Big-paw, the Bobcat 







Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

hidden behind a certain rock on the hillside above. 
“ Let Brother Sandy tell his great news privately, 
but let there be a witness. No doubt Wongo will 
do. The rest of us will wait outside, for it may be 
that strange things are about to happen.” 

“ It is agreed,” said Cho-gay, addressing Kaw, 
“ but why would you not be the witness? ” 

“ I am not used to caves,” replied the crow, “ but 
Wongo lives in one.” 

Kaw r s remarks decided Cho-gay to hear the news 
of the little fox and he said, 

“ Come, Brother Wongo, we will learn what 
Brother Sandy has to say.” 

Scarcely had the three reached the back of the 
cave, when there came the sound of a falling rock 
on the hillside above, and a moment later there 
arose a fearful noise of combat, of wolf howls, 
screeches, and the snarls of an angry cat. 

Then out of a tumbling mixture of cat and wolf, 
old Rip scrambled to his feet and tore away like 
mad, and a moment later disappeared in a cloud of 
dust on the trail below. 

When Cho-gay, Wongo, and Sandy ran out of 
the cave to learn the cause of the awful noise, the 
angry but triumphant young bobcat was loping 
away up the mountain. 

Kaw, who alone knew what had happened, was 

119 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

laughing so hard he was unable to answer at once 
the many eager questions that were asked, but when 
he could speak, he said: 

“ Brother Rip has just had a little surprise 
party. It seems that on his way to our gathering 
he must have accidentally upset the stone that stood 
over the entrance to the cave that housed your 
prisoner, Big-paw, the bobcat. It may be that he 
mistook Big-paw for a sheep and jumped at him 
before he realized his mistake. Anyway, it was a 
mistake for poor old Rip, and for some reason he 
didn’t even stop to explain. And Big-paw has gone 
away mad, and I fear he will not come back.” 

As they realized what had happened, both Wongo 
and Cho-gay laughed and the coyotes, who had 
gathered near, took up the laughter in a hundred 
“ Ki—yi—yi’s ” of mirth, but the meek smile on 
the face of Sandy was made with an effort, for he 
feared his next meeting with his old hunting part¬ 
ner would not be a pleasant one. 

“But the news! The news!” exclaimed Kaw. 
“ What is the news that Brother Sandy has told? ” 

“ I didn’t have time to tell it,” said Sandy, “ but 
now that — that is — I may as well tell it here,” he 
added lamely. 

“ The news is that Kil-fang and his pack of fifty 
wolves are coming from the north to kill Cho-gay! ” 

120 





CHAPTER 4 


KIL-FANG STARTLES TIMBERTANGLE 

T HE news that Kil-fang and his pack were 
returning to the Black Hills was a startling 
surprise for all who gathered about Sandy, but they 
showed no fear, for all knew how to keep out of 
the way of the pack and all had faith in the power 
of Cho-gay. Now they wanted to hear what he 
would say. 

“ Where do you get the news, and where is proof 
that it is true? ” Cho-gay asked. 

“ Yap-kii, the coyote, got the news secretly from 
one of the coyotes that live in the north. He told 
Rip and Rip told me. They say that the pack will 
come through the north canyon when the moon is 
again full.” 

“ Where is Yap-kii? ” asked Cho-gay, turning to 
the coyotes. 

“ Hunting,” said Fearful, who led the clan while 
Yap-kii was away. “ He has said nothing to us 
about the coming of Kil-fang, but he has said that 
before the moon was again full we would all go 

121 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

over into the broad valley to the east, where there 
would soon be fine hunting.” 

“ That is proof enough for me,” said Kaw. 

“ Why is it proof? ” asked Cho-gay. 

“ Yap-kii knows that with the coming of Kil-fang 
all small animals will run to get out of the way of 
the pack, and they will run eastward into the broad 
valley, as that is the easiest way out.” 

“ I believe the news must be true,” said Cho-gay, 
who placed great faith in the wisdom of his old 
friend Kaw. 

“ Is it good then that I brought the news to 
you? ” asked Sandy timidly. 

“ It is good, and all people of the Black Hills 
will be glad that you have brought me the news,” 
said Cho-gay. 

“ Not all ,” said Sandy. “For what w T ill become 
of my brother that is kept shut up in the rocks? ” 

This surprising question puzzled Cho-gay and he 
scarcely knew how to reply. 

“ What do you say, brothers? ” he asked. 
“ Shall a thief who has twice stolen without cause 
be freed before he has been punished? ” 

“ Kindness is greater than the law in this case,” 
said Kaw, “ and Sandy has shown kindness to us 
all bv bringing this news. It mav be that the thief 
will be honest and steal no more.” 

122 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

44 Free him,” advised Wongo. 

44 Free him! Free him! ” echoed the coyotes. 

At this Cho-gay, followed by Sandy, went np to 
the little cave of the imprisoned fox. 

44 Will yon remember the law and steal no more 
if I set you free? ’’ asked Cho-gay of his prisoner. 

44 Yes, I steal no more,” was the reply. 

As Sandy and his brother trotted down the trail, 
Fearful and the remainder of his followers (for 
most of them had slipped away, one by one, to tell 
the great news to their friends) vanished into the 
sagebrush. 

When Cho-gay had returned to the rock in front 
of the cave, Kaw asked, 44 What will you do about 
the coming of Kil-fang and his pack? The moon 
will be full again in fewer than a dozen days.” 

44 I shall kill him and all his pack,” said Cho-gay. 
44 I will make many arrows and an extra bow, and 
I will have food and water in my cave to last until 
the wolves are all dead. I shall have big rocks at 
the door of my cave and I’ll shoot through the 
rocks, and cut with the knife all who try to enter.” 

44 All that might be very well,” said Kaw, 
slowly, 44 and you might kill them all. But Kil- 
fang with a dozen followers, and Kil-fang with a 
pack of fifty wolves of the north, are two different 
things. Why have a fight and kill and kill? Why 

123 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

should we let our old enemy return to our hills to 
scare all the game away! Why not have a little 
fun with him and give him such a scare that he 
and his pack will be glad to go back into the north 
and stay there? ” 

“ That is easy to say, but how could it be done? ” 
asked Cho-gay. 

Wongo, who was for the first time having his 
ever-present curiosity satisfied without asking ques¬ 
tions, looked confidently up at Kaw, for he knew, 
from past experience, that the wise old crow never 
suggested a thing unless he himself had thought of 
a way in which it could be carried out. 

“Well,” said Kaw, “my plan would be this: 
You remember that this end of the north canyon, 
where it opens into the valley, is very narrow. Kil- 
fang will come through the canyon because it is the 
easiest way and the other end is wide and full of 
small game. We will get a number of bears to help 
you, and you can roll some big rocks down into the 
narrow place at this end, until there will be left 
only a space where one wolf can pass through at a 
time. That you can do to-morrow, so that any fresh 
earth that is torn up will look old and dry when the 
pack comes. Nothing will scare wolves or coyotes 
like a big noise, if they are not expecting it, so we 
will make a big drum.” 


124 







Wongo, Clio-gay and Kara plan to scare Kil-fang 
























Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

“ What is that! ” asked Cho-gay. 

“ It’s just the thing! ” exclaimed Wongo, who 

remembered the drums used bv the Indian men 

•» 

when old Grouch was captured. 

“ We’ll tell you what a drum is and how to make 
it,” replied Kaw. “ Up the valley, a little way 
from here, is a nice piece of a hollow log lying 
beside the trail.” 

“ I remember it,” said Wongo. 

“ Can you roll it down here this afternoon! ” 
asked Kaw. 

“ Yes, easily,” replied the little bear. 

Then, turning to Cho-gay, Kaw continued: 

“ You will have to kill a young buck — which you 

will need for meat anyway — for you must have a 

fresh skin and one large enough to supply a piece 

of hide for each end of the log. When you kill the 

buck and Wongo brings the log I will be there to 

tell vou how to finish the drum. 

«/ 

i 1 When Kil-fang and his pack come down the 
canyon, he will be in the lead. It will be moon¬ 
light, for the pack will not travel in our country by 
day. We will have all the bears and coyotes we 
can get, hidden behind the big rocks that stand just 
this side of the narrow passage of the canyon, and 
it is there you can be stationed with the drum. 

“ We will let one of the biggest bears stand on 

127 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

the wall of the canyon just above the narrow 
passage with some big, round rocks, and after Kil- 
fang and three or four of the pack have passed 
through into the valley, the big bear can roll in 

i 

enough rocks to till the passage and separate the 
pack from their leader. Then we’ll all let loose the 
big noise and chase Mr. Kil-fang down the valley 
and over the mountains. A pack without a leader 
is easily confused and the noise we make will scare 
them out of their skins.” 

“ It all sounds as if it could be done,” said Cho- 
gay. “ I will hunt for a buck this afternoon and 
if you are here to-morrow we can make this thing 
that makes the noise.” 

“ I will be here,” replied Kaw, “ and as I also 
have much to do, if this plan is carried out, I will 
be going.” 

With this parting remark, Kaw left his com¬ 
panions and flew away down the valley in search of 
old Rip. As he flew along he talked to himself: 

“ If I can get the old rascal to do what I tell him 
to, we’ll have more fun than a cat fight. First — 
I’ll find him some food and get him in a good 
humor. I’ll tell him that he’ll be looked upon as a 
hero by all, if he will join in my plan.” And he 
chuckled as he thought of it. 


128 





CHAPTER 5 


THE ROUT OF THE WOLF PACK 

T HE days that followed were busy ones for Kaw, 
Clio-gay, and Wongo, even though they had 
plenty of help. On the first night that the moon 
was full, a silent gathering of bears, crows, coyotes, 
and one wolf, hid themselves behind the rocks at the 
mouth of the canyon, and waited. 

Presently a crow, who had been stationed far up 
in the canyon, flew down to tell Kaw that Kil-fang 
and his pack were coming. 

Silently the old crow flew around among his help¬ 
ers to give the final instructions. Then all waited. 

It seemed hours before the pack were heard 
approaching the narrow passage. At last old Kil- 
fang, with three of his largest followers, trotted 
through the narrow pass. 

Then came a sharp “ Caw,” followed by the 
tumbling of rocks that separated the leader from 
his pack. There followed the most unearthly noise 
a wolf ever heard. 

For a moment the great Kil-fang and his three 
companions seemed uncertain what to do, and too 

129 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

scared and confused to decide which way to run. 

Then, with the booming of the drum, the growls 
of running bears, and yapping of coyotes, there 
came a great snow-white wolf, on whose back sat a 
black screeching object — a combination fearful 
to see. 

This was too much for Kil-fang and his com¬ 
panions. With howls of terror, they fled down the 
valley in a panic, followed by a yelping, barking 
mob. But even the fleetest pursuers could not keep 
up with them, and soon Kil-fang and his followers 
disappeared in the moonlight. 

Then the noise-makers ran up along the canyon 
rim to frighten the now leaderless pack. But 
though the crows flew low and the coyotes ran fast 
no trace of the wolves could be seen. They had 
vanished into the north, to return no more. 

When the noise-makers had all gathered again in 
the moonlight, they chattered, yapped and laughed 
over the scattering of Kil-fang and his pack, and 
over the fearful appearance of old Rip, whom Cho- 
gay had skillfully painted with pipe-clay. 

Their night’s work had been a complete success 
and all agreed that Kaw’s plan had been a great 
one and that, with the powers of Cho-gay and the 
wisdom of the old crow, they could now defeat all 
enemies who might attempt to disturb the happy 

130 





Cho-gay of Timbertangle 

state of the peaceful hills and valleys of Timber- 
tangle. 

As the joyous company prepared to depart for 
their dens, caves, and nests, Kaw flew up to the top 



of a near-by tree and after stretching his wings and 
shaking the dust from his feathers, he sang: 

“ Where, oh where, is the great wolf clan, 

That came to fight and kill ? 

With cow r ardly hearts, in fear they ran; 

I’ll bet they’re running still! ' 


131 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 


“ And so with all who brag and boast, 

And try to rule by fear; 

They’re always scared and frightened most 
When no real danger’s near! 

“ So let us live by justice and 
Kill only when there’s need. 

Then there’ll be peace in Black Hill land, 
In place of fear and greed! ” 



132 







The Thunder Drum 


CHAPTER 1 

THE YEAR OF THE GREAT THIRST 

The shadows of Timbertangle Wood 

Have hidden many a tale 

Of wild adventure and treasure trove, 

And, magic of forest trail. 

But here is a tale as it came to me, 

And I'm told that it’s really true 

(By the little black bird who told it to me!) 

So I'm handing it on to you! 

W ONGO, the little bear, stood at the entrance 
to his cave, his head hanging almost to his 
paws. He looked and felt very lonely and discour¬ 
aged. He was weak and hungry and his friend 
Kaw, the wise old crow, was away. Wongo did not 
know where he had gone and did not know what to 
do without him. The world seemed a sad, dark 
place. 

The sides of Wongo’s empty stomach seemed to 
rub together and call for food, but stronger, much 

133 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

stronger than that was the call of loneliness in his 
heart. He felt that if he were left this way much 
longer he would just lie clown and die, all by him¬ 
self. But Wongo did not die, as you shall see. 
This is a tale of adventure and great Magic, and let 
it never be forgotten that the little bear did his part 
in the Magic and did it well. 

It was the year of the great thirst in Timber- 
tangle— a year that all animals have good reason 
to remember, the year of the warm winter, when no 
snows came to melt into streams and pools in the 
spring. 

All things that should have been green and fresh 

hung brown and dusty and rattled at the touch. 

Berries dried on the stem, before they were ripe, 

and nuts, when they were picked, were found to be 

just little withered specks in their hollow shells. 

Most of the streams were merelv beds of bleached 

•/ 

bowlders, white with dust, and only here and there, 
where water had been a rushing torrent in years 
past, was there a tiny trickle between the stones — 
just enough to satisfy the thirst of the many ani¬ 
mals of Timbertangle. Even these little streams 
grew scantier each day and first one and then 
another dried up altogether. 

It had been many, many moons since any rain 
had fallen and the larger animals were mere ghosts 

134 





The Thunder Drum 


of themselves, for the smaller animals on which 
they fed had long ago died, or gone away in search 
of the green things on which they lived. 

It must not be thought that Kaw, the crow, had 
been idle in all this time. He had flown many a 
day’s journey in every direction to see if he could 
find water, but always came back with the same 
tale — no rains had fallen anywhere and every¬ 
where growing things were brown and dry and all 
living things cried for water. 

A sort of watchman of Timbertangle was Kaw, 
for the little crow seemed never to sleep and there 
was not much that escaped his bright eyes. It was 
a mystery to many of the animals why Kaw and 
Wongo were on such friendly terms, the quick, 
alert bird and the lumbering little bear, but they 
certainly were almost always together, for seldom 
was Wongo seen that somewhere in the tree tops 
could not be distinguished the sheen of Kaw’s 
black feathers. 

Wongo’s head dropped lower and lower as he 
considered these things and he grew more and more 
lonely and depressed, when suddenly he jerked up 
with a start! Without preliminary flutter or noise 
of any kind the voice of Kaw broke sharply in on 
his sad thoughts: 


135 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“ Stand on your head and jig and dance, 

Or wiggle your legs and howl and prance; 

But don’t stand there with a hanging head, 

As if some friend of ours was dead! 

What awful thing has happened now, 

That you should wear such a troubled brow? ” 

Wongo looked up and heaved a great sigh of 
relief. There sat Kaw on his accustomed limb, and 
immediately the world seemed a different, brighter 
place. 

“ Well, I’m glad to see you’re alive anyway,” 
continued the crow. “ You hadn’t moved since I 
landed here. I have been watching you for some 
time and was beginning to wonder if you had 
learned to sleep standing up. Anything very terri¬ 
ble happened while I was away? ” 

“ Nothing worse than when you were here,” said 
Wongo. “ Where in the world have you been? 
Have you found anything? ” 

“ "Well, y-e-s — and no,” said Kaw, a bit doubt¬ 
fully, answering the last question. “ I’ve found an 
idea and ideas can be very helpful sometimes. 
You can never tell. Have you seen Cho-gay, the 
Indian boy, lately? ” 

“ Not very lately,” said Wongo. “ WTiy? ” 
He sat back on his haunches. Things did not seem 
so dark now with Kaw back, even though the old 

136 





Just follow me,” cried Kaw, <e and you shall see 

























The Thunder Drum 


crow himself was exceedingly dark, and Wongo’s 
hollow insides did not seem to cry nearly so loudly 
for food. 

“ That can wait,” said the crow, and’cocked his 
head on one side. “ Not hungry, are you? ” asked 
he, and pretended to jump with fright at the snort 
let out by the little bear. “ Oh, well, don’t eat me, 
but I happened to find out just a short while ago 
where old Chac, the gray wolf, who fell two days 
ago and broke his neck, kept his meat. There’s 
some there yet.” 

Gone was Wongo’s despondency. He sprang to 
his feet and sniffed the air. “ Where? ” was the 
single word he uttered, and Kaw, with a great pre¬ 
tense of hurry and bustle, flapped his wings and 
rose from his limb, crying as he did so: 

“ Just follow me 
And you shall see — 

My nose is true, 

And yours is, too. 

Please use it now, 

As you know how; 

But don’t be long, 

The smell is strong, 

And may be stronger 
If we’re longer. 

It may meet us — 

Even cheat us — 

For we’ll lose it 
139 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

And confuse it, 

If we meet! ’ ’ 

“ Oh, hush! ” shouted Wongo. “ You make 
my head buzz. What are you talking about? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” answered Kaw. “ If the 
smell should meet us, which would be the meat? 
That’s what I want to know — meet bear or bear 
meat — I can’t see much difference— ” But he got 
no further. He had been flying from tree to tree, 
giving Wongo plenty of time to follow on his rather 
wabbly legs, and now there was no doubt but that 
they had come to the place to which he had re¬ 
ferred, and Wongo paid no further attention to 
Kaw for a time. The little bear wondered, as he 
ate, why the other animals had not found the meat, 
for, as Kaw had said, the smell was certainly 
plain and strong. He found a fairly good supply 
of mountain sheep in the cache, but where old Chac 
had killed it he could not imagine. It was good, 
though, and he was thankful to have his stomach 
again filled. 

When he had eaten until he was satisfied and had 
carefully hidden what remained of the meat, 
Wongo turned gratefully to his old friend, who sat 
preening his feathers on a near-by cottonwood tree. 

“ Now I am ready to listen to what it was von 

140 







The Thunder Drum 


were going- to say awhile ago,” lie said. “ What 
about Clio-gay! ” 

Kaw did not answer for a moment, but continued 
his cleaning operations. Presently, with a final 
shake, he settled himself on his limb and looked 
down at Wongo. 

“ Have you anything particular to do this morn¬ 
ing! ” he asked, as if in idle questioning. 

“ What about Cho-gay! ” Wongo asked again. 
“ You had something to tell me about him.” 

“ Patience, patience, my young friend,” said 
the old crow gravely. “ I shall come to that pres¬ 
ently.” 

Wongo felt very comfortable and lazy now. He 
stretched himself out on a warm rock in the sun 
and waited good-naturedly for what his friend had 
to say. He grunted with satisfaction and content¬ 
ment as he fuzzed out his hairy coat and felt the 
rays of the sun sink down to his skin. When 
Wongo had eaten his fill he always was sleepy. 

“ As you evidently haven *t anything to do this 
morning,” continued the crow, “ I’ll go on with 
what I was going to say. ’ ’ 

“ Go on,” grunted Wongo, and his eyes were 
nearly closed. 

“ For goodness sake don’t go to sleep! ” called 
Kaw, suddenly alert. “ There are things to do, and 

141 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

to do now if we expect to see another winter in 
Timbertangle — Here! Wake up! " 

“ What's the matter? " grunted Wongo. 
“ Who's going to sleep? I was never more awake 
in my life." With a great effort, he opened his 
eyes wide to prove what he said. “ What is there 
to do and who is going to do it? " 

“ Well, that sounds more like it," said Kaw. 
“ If you really are awake, come on over to Cho- 
gay's cave and we will talk there." 

The little bear got up very slowly, and shook 
himself carefully all over, beginning with first one 
leg and then the other and ending with the little 
flap he called a tail. 

u All right, I'm ready," he said, “ only it seems 
to me the really sensible thing to do would be to 
take a nap." 

Kaw chuckled. “ It's plain to me the nap will 
soon take you if you don't take it, if we wait here 
one minute longer. This is no time for naps, my 
friend. You and I have work to do. I have a 
plan, you see." 

“ No, I don't see," said Wongo, a trifle crossly. 
“ You mean you know of a place where we can 
get a good supply of water? " 

“ N-o, not exactly — but — well, come on and 
you'll see later." Kaw flopped from his tree and 

142 






The Thunder Drum 


flew slowly off in the direction of Cho-gay’s cave, 
the little bear following, a bit reluctantly, in his 
wake. Wongo was still sleepy and not a little 
puzzled by Kaw’s words. Curiosity as to what 
was meant, as much as loyalty to his friend, now 
spurred him on. 

Kaw soon disappeared through the branches of 
the trees and the little bear followed slowly, his 
tongue lolling out of his mouth, as he wished in 
vain for a cool drink. 


143 





CHAPTER 2 


GRAYHEAD, THE GRIZZLY 

W ONGO had gone only a short distance, follow¬ 
ing Kaw towards Cho-gay’s cave, when he 
heard a voice coming from a little clearing ahead of 
him and recognized it to be the voice of old Gray- 
head, an ancient grizzly who had lived long in 
Timbertangle and had known Wongo’s father. The 
old bear was possessed with the idea that he was 
chief of the animals of the region and never tired 
of telling how he won his position, much to the 
weariness of his hearers, who had secretly nick¬ 
named him “Old Waggle-jaw,” but who never 
dared mention the name to his face. For, though 
he was old, Grayhead was still easily the biggest 
and strongest bear in Timbertangle, and none 
would care to invite a swing from one of his mighty 
paws. So his tales had to be listened to with grave 
faces, but once behind his back his listeners would 
laugh at him and mock him and the name of 
“ Waggle-jaw ” was freely used. 

Wongo felt too lazy to walk around the clearing 
and thus avoid meeting old Grayhead, so he went 

144 


The Thunder Drum 


straight on, much to his regret a few minutes later. 
He walked into the clearing, looking neither to 
right nor left, and attempted to cross it without 
being stopped, but he reckoned without Grayhead. 



The old bear looked up with a grunt of satisfac¬ 
tion and spoke to a group seated about him: ‘ ‘ Here 
is one who knows that I tell the truth, for his 
father was there. Wongo, I was just about to tell 
these friends here of the act of daring and courage 

145 























Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

that made me chief of Timbertangle.’ 9 

Wongo gave an inward groan and cast his eyes 
in the direction in which Kaw had flown. He 
thought he could see him far away, flitting among 
the trees. 

“ I can’t stop now,” he said hurriedly. “ Some 
other time—” 

Old Grayhead caught him by the leg and pulled 
him down toward him. 

“ Not so fast, my young friend,” he said. “ Who 
has a better right to your time than I — your 
chief? Come, it will not take long. I just want 
you as witness to the truth of what I say.” 

A far-off voice came back through the trees: 

“ Come on, come on, slow poke! ” 

“ I can’t! ” shouted Wongo. Forgetting him¬ 
self in his anger at being detained, he called out, 
“ It’s i Waggle-jaw! ’ ” 

Old Grayhead looked at him and frowned deeply. 

“ What do you mean by shouting at me in that 
way? And who or what is ‘ Waggle-jaw ’? ” He 
had evidently not heard the call of the crow, and 
the other animals (two bears and a gray wolf) 
looked startled and exchanged strange glances. 
Wongo was startled, too, and frightened at what 
he had said in his annoyance. He longed to escape 
but saw no immediate chance, as old Grayhead 

146 





The Thunder Drum 


held him tight by the leg awaiting his explanation 
of the name “ Waggle-jaw.” 

‘ ‘ It ’s —-it’s — it ’s an animal — ’’ stammered 
the little bear, and a snicker passed between the 
two bears and the wolf, and he heard an echo of 
it from a near-by tree and knew that Kaw had re¬ 
turned to discover the cause of his delay. 

“ An animal? ” repeated Grayhead. “Called 
‘Waggle-jaw ’? I never heard of it. It can’t be in 
Timbertangle . 9 9 

“ Yes,” said Wongo, picking up courage, “ that’s 
where I was going now. It’s a queer animal, and 
I was going to hunt it.” 

“ Humm-m,” said Grayhead. “ What hind of 
an animal? Does it look good to eat? ” 

The bears and wolf gave a queer, smothered yell 
at this and Grayhead looked up with a threatening 
frown. 

“Silence, there! Have more respect for your 
elders. If there is an animal in this forest that 
can be hunted down and eaten, it is for me, your 
chief, to do it. But tell me where it was that you 
last saw this — this — ‘ Wabble-jaw,’ Wongo. We 
will all go and find him.” 

Wongo wriggled uneasily and cast an imploring 
glance up at the tree where Kaw sat smoothing 
his feathers. He was in a trap and he looked 

147 








Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

hopefully to his friend to get him out, as he usually 
did, but Kaw made no sign. 

“ He — he — wasn’t far from here—” began 
the little bear uncertainly, when to his great relief 
and joy Kaw broke in, clearing his throat several 
times to gain the attention of the group below him, 
and addressing himself particularly to Grayhead — 
“ I believe,” lie began, with a little cough, “ that 
I know more about this ‘ Waggle-jaw ’ than anyone 
else, and, er — with your kind permission I’ll tell 
you about him — especially as our friend Wongo 
seems to be a little short of breath. 

Grayhead nodded shortly and Kaw went on: 

“ Now, ‘ Waggle-jaw ’ lives fairly near here — 
that is, at times. Then again he lives quite far 
away, for he isn’t always at each place — as is 
the way with most of us. As to how he looks — 
w-e-1-1 — ’ ’ Kaw began to drawl in a comical way, 
and a quick giggle broke from the other animals, 
as Kaw dropped into verse: 

“ When once you’ve seen him face to face, 
You’ll know him without doubt, 

For on his head there’s not a trace, 

When he is turned about, 

Of any hair — except what’s there — 

Nor on his back a spot, 

Of fur or skin that’s dark or fair, 


148 





The Thunder Drum 

Except where there is not. 

And he’s a fearful creature, too, 

As you will surely find. 

For he can bite a tree in two 
With only half a mind. 

The other half — so I am told — 

He uses as a paw, 

When enemies get overbold. 

To club them in the jaw.” 

“ Now, the reason he is in this neighborhood,” 
continued Kaw slowly, “ is that he has heard 
that you want to meet him and then, too, he is very 
fond of bear meat and this is his hungry time of 
year. I saw him as I passed a little while ago and, 
thinking to do you a favor, I told him that you 
were many miles from here — on the other side of 
the divide, in fact — and he was headed that way 
when I left him. S-o-o,” drawled the old crow, 
in finishing his tale, “ he isn’t likely to make you 
a call to-dav! ” He looked rather self-conscious, 
as he ceased speaking, and sat back on his limb 
with an attempt at dignity as he waited for Gray- 
head to speak. That old bear was too much con¬ 
fused to say anything. He did not know what to 
think. He felt as if he should thank Kaw for sav¬ 
ing his life, and yet he did not feel just certain 
about anything. He looked at the other bears, but 
they would not meet his eye, as they were quivering 

149 









Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

with concealed mirth. All of them, however, felt 
it wise to keep silent. 

Before Grayhead could collect his puzzled 
thoughts enough to speak, Kaw began again: 

“ I thought, as I came near, that I heard you 
telling of how you became chief of Timbertangle.” 
That was a safe thing to say, as it was seldom that 
Grayhead spoke of anything else. “ How well I 
remember hearing Wongo’s father, old Silvertip, 
tell of that wonderful time and of your heroic 
actions.” 

Old Grayhead held his head high and looked, 
with an “ I told you so ” air, at his companions. 

“ And I nearly laughed myself sick,” continued 
Kaw, “ at the picture he drew of the animals 
scrambling up the sides of the canyon as you held 
the great bowlder against the flood waters that 
were pouring through the gap. It makes me laugh 
now to think of it! Haw, liaw, haw! ” and the 
other animals, including Wongo, joined with a 
whoop in his merriment, letting out all the mirth 
that had been filling them for the last half hour, 
in shouts of joy, rolling on the ground and clawing 
at the dry leaves until the tears ran from their eyes 
and the near-by hills echoed to their shouts. Gray¬ 
head joined in, rather feebly at first, but finally he 
laughed with all the vim of the others, not realizing 

150 






The Thunder Drum 


that they were laughing at him and not with him. 

When the wave of merriment had quieted down 
a little, Kaw spoke again: “ That is the finest tale 
in Timbertangle. That reminds me, as I passed the 



cave of the two cinnamon hears a short while ago 
I heard them speaking about it. I think you have 
never told it to them and they were wishing they 
could hear it first-hand.’’ Kaw almost choked on 
the last words, but he got them out. 

151 




















The Thunder Drum 


Grayhead rose immediately: “ The cinnamon 
bears, you say? I’ll go now. I have nothing par¬ 
ticular to do,” and lie was ambling off through the 
timber almost before the words were out of his 
mouth. As soon as Grayhead was beyond earshot 
the laughter began anew and Ivaw almost rolled off 
his perch in glee. But suddenly recollecting his 
business of the morning, he attracted Wongo’s at¬ 
tention. 

“ Come, we’ve lost a lot of time. Let’s go,” he 
called, and the two set off as if they had had no 
interruption to their journey. 


152 





CHAPTER 3 


AT THE CAVE OF CHO-GAY 
ONGO and Kaw found Clio-gay, the Indian 



» f boy, in front of his cave, cutting raw-hide 
into long strips — to make traps, he told them. 
He was plainly very glad to see them. Clio-gay 
had lived in Timbertangle since most of the animals 
could remember, though how he came there was a 
mystery to all but Kaw, who seemed to know 
everything. The little Indian boy was at home and 
on friendly terms with all animals and birds who 
attended to their own proper business, but it was 
well known that when a law of the woods or desert 
v/as broken, Cho-gay did all he could to hunt down 
and punish the wrong-doer, so he had some enemies, 
but many friends, in Timbertangle. 

When the two visitors had made themselves com¬ 
fortable on the rock in front of his cave, Cho-gay 
brought out a handful of seeds for the crow and 
for the bear some ripe berries from a little patch 
he had managed to keep green in spite of the ter¬ 
rible drouth. 

After the manner of Indians, the animals were 


153 


Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

silent for some time, and did not immediately come 
to the reason for their visit, but finally Kaw spoke: 

“ Chu-ta-win, the eagle, is a friend of yours, 
isn’t he, Cho-gay? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Cho-gay, “ the eagle and I are 
good friends. He really owes his life to me.” 

“ As I thought,” said Kaw. “ Would he do big 
things for you! ” 

“ I think he would do anything I’d ask,” an¬ 
swered the Indian boy. “ Why? ” 

“ Umm-m,” said Kaw, without answering the 
question. “ Do you know where he is*? ” 

“ I can whistle for him. We have a signal. If 
he doesn’t hear, there are those who carry the 
message to him.” 

“ Suppose you whistle now,” said Kaw. 44 No 
— on second thought don’t! Chu-ta-win and I are 
not exactly on friendly terms; he had better not 
see me, just yet. I have a scheme on foot and it 
would be best for no one to know just what it is 
but myself. I’ll tell you this much — I’m after 
water — much water — and I want to know if you 
two are willing to trust me and ask no questions.” 

“Yes!” answered Cho-gay and Wongo at the 
same moment, and this ready answer plainly 
pleased the old crow very much. He gave a sigh 
of relief. 


154 





The Thunder Drum 


“ Well, that’s settled. Now for business. You, 
Wongo, must go up to the top of Skull-top mountain 
and on the bald spot that you know of there, make 
the biggest, thickest bed of leaves you ever made 
in your life. ’ ? 

Wongo sat back on his haunches and his jaw 
dropped open. 

* ‘ What on earth — ” he began, and stopped 
short, for Kaw cocked his head on one side and 
snapped out: 

“ What did I say — 

Now there you go — 

Just right away, 

’Twas ever so. 

Instead of going to your task. 

You simply sit and gape, and ask! ” 

“ Well, answered Wongo, a trifle sheepishly, 
“ you didn’t want me to rush right off now, did 
you? ” 

“ Yes,” Kaw remarked dryly. “ It will take you 
quite a while to get up the mountain and longer to 
gather the leaves. Make the pile big and deep, 
mind you.” 

“ But can’t I hear what Cho-gay is going to do, 
first? ” 

“ No,” said Kaw, “ you’ll hear all about that 

155 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

later. Run along now, for your job’s very im¬ 
portant.” 

Wongo left them, going very slowly, it is true, 
and with many a backward glance at the two. Kaw 
chuckled to himself: 

“A good, kindly friend, my little bear, 

Always good natured and merry; 

Anything doing, he’s sure to be there; 

But curious— ? Very — Oh, VERY! ” 

*/ 

He chuckled again and turned to Clio-gay: 

“ I want Chu-ta-win, the eagle, to take you to the 
Up-above Country. Have you ever been? ” point¬ 
ing to the clouds. 

“ No, I haven’t,” said Clio-gay. “ Why in the 
world do you want me to go up there, and what 
would I do after I got there? l r ou’re asking much, 
friend Kaw.” 

“ You promised to do as I said and not ask 
questions. Are you going back on your word? ” 

“ No,” answered Clio-gay slowly. “ Go on.” 

“ I’ll tell you what we are going for on the 
way up,” went on Kaw, “ and as for what you 
will do, well, I’ll be there too, you see, and I’ll 
tell you that at the time. Tell Chu-ta-win to take 
you up, as you have important business in the 
Cloud Country. Suppose you call him now. There 

156 






Won go left them, going very slowly 















The Thunder Drum 


is no time to lose, as we are, if we succeed, about 
to do a service for Timbertangle that will never be 
forgotten.” 

“ If it’s a real adventure,” said Clio-gay, Im 
for it,” and lie gave a clear, shrill whistle which 
was repeated some distance away and then again 
far off in the forest. 

“ I’ll .just step inside your cave while you talk 
with Cliu-ta-win,” said Kaw, and suiting the action 
to the word he hopped into the cave-moutli. 

After a short interval, there came a rush of wind, 
and Kaw knew that the great eagle had arrived. 

“ You called for me, little brother,” said a voice, 
and Cho-gay answered: 

“Yes, Cliu-ta-win, I have a great favor to ask.” 

“ You have only to name it, little brother. My 
bones would have been drying on Skull-top moun¬ 
tain, if it had not been for you, and my heart is 
grateful. What is it that I can do for you? ” 

“ I have some important business in the Up-above 
Country. Can you take me there? ” 

“ Why, yes,” answered Cliu-ta-win, readily 
enough. “I am chief of the Air people, as you 
know, and have a right to entrance to the Up- 
above Country. I will tell them that you are my 
tribe brother and they will welcome you. When 
would you like to go? ” 


159 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“ Now,” answered Clio-gay. 

“ Well,” said Chu-ta-win, “fortunately I have 
flown but little this morning and my wings are 
fresh. Have you a bit of food handy? We’ll both 
need a meal before we’re back? ” 

“ I have a hag of dried goat’s meat and seeds 
of the piny on,” said Clio-gay. “ Will that do? ” 

“ Fine,” answered Chu-ta-win, “ bring it along. 
It has been many, many moons since I tasted the 
meat of the goat.” 

So Cho-gay went back into the cave, and while he 
was getting the hag of goat meat, he whispered to 
Kaw: 

“ The eagle will take me as soon as I get some 
food. Now, how about you? You say you are 
going, too? ” 

“ Yes, I am going in disguise,” said Kaw in a 
low voice. “ Hurry just a hit with wliat you are 
doing, for you must do something for me before I 
can show myself to your friend Chu-ta-win.” 

So Cho-gay fastened the hag of meat to a thong 
at his waist as quickly as he could and stepped over 
to Kaw. 

“Have you some red paint?” asked the crow. 

“ Yes,” replied Cho-gay. 

“ Well, get it,” continued the crow,” and paint 
me all over with it. Make my beak white. Hurry!” 

160 





The Thunder Drum 


Clio-gay hesitated for a long moment, but seeing 
that Kaw was very much in earnest, he took a small 
bag from a peg in the cave wall and went swiftly 
to work. He had long ago discovered many bright 
rocks and brilliantly colored bits of earth that 
could be carefully powdered and, when mixed with 
water, made wonderful paint. Then he had dis¬ 
covered the need of having something to draw 
with and had used small pieces of hide with hair 
attached, which he had tied about the ends of little 
twigs, and dipping them in his paints made great 
drawings in color of the animals and birds and 
trees of the forest, much to the admiration of all 
Timbertangle. He had never before painted a 
living creature, but he rather enjoyed his task. 

When the beak was painted a snowy white, the 
crow turned gravely round for Cho-gay to examine 
him carefully to see that the disguise was complete. 
Cho-gay, almost choking with inner laughter, but 
afraid to show his amusement for fear of offending 
his friend, assured him that even his mother would 
not know him if she saw him now. 

ii Are you sure I look all right ? ” insisted Kaw. 

“ Fine! ” answered Cho-gay, and grinned in spite 
of himself. 

“ Well, we’ll go now. Introduce me to Chu-ta- 
win as a friend of yours —Mr. Redskin, suppose 

161 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

we say — and be sure to say I have a bad cold. ” 

Cho-gay could not resist asking, “ What is the 
trouble between you and Chu-ta-win ! ” but he was 
sorry the moment he had asked, for he could see, 
strange as it seemed, that the question had made 
Kaw uncomfortable. He gave the impression of 
being red in the face, but, of course, that might 
have been the paint, for he was red all over. He 
stretched his neck and hesitated for a second. 
Cho-gay felt he was going to say something sharp, 
but he seemed to change his mind and cocked his 
head on one side with a rather quizzical expression. 

“ What about asking questions! ” Kaw said. 
“ I’ll have to tell you about the 4 Why’s.’ Ever 
hear of them! ” and without waiting for an answer 
he chanted in a low voice: 


“ There once was a tribe called the ‘ Whys, ’ 
Who thought to become very wise; 

They went to the crows, 

For as everyone knows, 

A crow is quite bright — for his size! 

“ They asked very deeply of laws. 

And of words quite too big for their jaws, 
But the crows, with a sigh. 

Answered every big ‘ Why’ 

Very plainly and simply with — ‘Caws!’” 


162 






“ The voice too/’ mused Chu-ta-win 

























The Thunder Drum 


The crow stopped and cleared his throat, with 
one bright twinkling eye on Cho-gay. 

“ I thought you had some goat meat in there,’’ 
said a voice from the cave entrance. “ Are you 
waiting for a little kid to grow up and have it 
killed and dried! And who’s in there with you! ” 

“ A friend,” called Cho-gay. “ I’m coming- 
now,” and he stepped out to where the eagle was 
waiting. Kaw followed without a word. 

“ My friend wants to come with us to the Up- 
above Country,” said Cho-gay to Chu-ta-win. 
“ His name is Redskin and he is a tribe brother 
of mine.” 

Chu-ta-win eyed Kaw with a puzzled expression. 

“ I think I have never seen your friend before. 
He is the largest red-bird I ever saw. He reminds 
me of someone, though I cannot think who. You 
are not of Timbertangle! ” he questioned Kaw. 

“ No,” answered the old crow in a low voice. 
“ I am from the other side of the divide.” 

“ The voice too,” mused Chu-ta-win. 

“ Redskin has been hoarse for days,” spoke Cho- 
gay hastily. “ He does not sound at all like him¬ 
self. Shall I get on your back! ” he asked, hoping 
to draw attention away from Kaw. 

“ Yes, we had better go,” said the eagle. “ The 
wind is just right now.” 


165 





CHAPTER 4 


IN THE UP-ABOVE COUNTRY 


C HO-GAY climbed as quickly as possible to the 
broad back of the eagle and made himself com¬ 
fortable between the great wings. He had to lie 
forward on his stomach, with his arms around the 
eagle’s neck, as the smooth feathers, though warm, 
were very slick and he had no wish to slide off. 

It was a queer sensation to feel the earth drop 
away from beneath him, as they rose swiftly into 
the air from the rock shelf of his cave, and the 
rocks and trees seemed to sink down to the ground. 
Cho-gay could hardly realize that it was he who 
was rising above the earth, he seemed to stay still 
and everything else to move. 

Presently all Timbertangle lay beneath them, a 
great mass of tangled, brown tree tops, with here 
and there a bald knob of mountain rising above 
them. Even these soon flattened out into a mottled 
plain stretching far, far away in every direction — 
a plain that grew hazier and less distinct every 
moment, as they were flying very swiftly and al¬ 
most directly up — and soon Timbertangle was 

166 


The Thunder Drum 


altogether lost to sight as light, wind-blown clouds 
drifted between them and the earth beneath. 

The eagle flew very easily, with no apparent ef¬ 
fort, and his great wings rose and fell with a 
motion as regular as the beating of a heart. 

Long before this, Kaw, feeling that he could not 
keep up with the strong flight of the eagle, had 
lighted on the broad back beside Cho-gay, and his 
bright eyes turned in every direction, taking in the 
surroundings. 

The cool wind whistled by their ears, but Clio- 
gay’s skin was tough from constant exposure to 
all kinds of weather, and the wind made little dif¬ 
ference to him. 

Kaw was enjoying himself thoroughly. “ I only 
wish there was a pool somewhere near,” he said 
in an undertone to Cho-gay, “ so that I could see 
how I look. How about this color — will it come 
off easily? ” 

Cho-gay stared hard as the realization came to 
him that from previous experiments he had found 
that this particular color did not come off easily. 
He whispered this to the crow. 

“ Well,” said Kaw, when this had been made 
clear to him, “ that’s nice — a pretty pickle, I call 
it. I must say I can’t blame you though. There 
is some gain in everything, and no matter how old 

167 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

I get to be, I will never turn gray! ” He chuckled 
suddenly: 

‘ ‘ Who ever heard of a crow that was red ? 

Oh, bless my poor feathers and bones! 

My friends will all think that old Kaw is dead, 

And shed many big tears and groans! ” 

“ Well,” said Kaw cheerfully, “ I’d better give 
you a few instructions while I have the chance/’ 
and he lowered his voice so that Cho-gay could 
barely hear. “ You might as well know now that 
we are going to the Up-above Country to steal the 
Thunder Drum.” Seeing a startled look in Cho- 
gay J s eyes, he quickly added, “ I have it all planned 
out, so there will be no danger to anyone.” 

“ I was not thinking of myself,” said Cho-gay 
gravely, “ but you know if the Up-above people 
get mad they’ll send terrible storms and blow down 
trees and perhaps do much damage.” 

“ I thought of that,” whispered Kaw. “ The 
Thunder Drum was made, long, long ago, by a man- 
animal of your people, an Indian Chief of great 
bravery, and was, by some strange magic, stolen 
from him by the Up-above people. I’ve no doubt 
that one of Chu-ta-win’s ancestors helped, for it 
would take an eagle to carry it up, so it’s just as 
well that he helps us now. There have been many 

168 






The Thunder Drum 


who have tried to get the Drum back to the earth- 
people, but they didn’t have as good a scheme as 
I’ve got. All I will want you to do is to get the 
attention of old Chaco, the keeper of the Drum, on 
something else so he will not notice me while I 
scout around a bit. Ask him if he can tell you 
where to find the blue charm Wongo lost. It was 
the great charm of the Bear Clan and he has been 
afraid ever since that the other bears would dis¬ 
cover that he has lost it. You know the Up-above 
people see everything that happens on the earth.” 

“ What good will it do to steal the Thunder 
Drum? ” asked Cho-gay. 

“ What good? ” snapped Kaw. “ Don’t you 
know that it is the Thunder Drum that brings the 
rain? Every time Chaco, the rain-man, beats it, 
the people of the Water Clan pour water through 
the holes in the clouds and it falls to earth. If 
we once had the Thunder Drum in Timbertangle, 
there would be no more dry seasons, for we would 
beat it ourselves when we wanted rain.” 

“ Look! Little brother,” called Chu-ta-win, 
“ there are the sun-clouds, and they guard the way 
to the Up-above Country.” 

A great bank of clouds rose before them, so 
white of themselves and so brilliant with sunshine 
that Cho-gay had to close his eyes, and when he 

169 






Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

opened them again, though it had been but a second 
or two, they had slipped through the clouds and 
were rising above a new and wonderful world. 
There were hills and canyons and desert, but they 
were all in the wonderful colors of the sunset and 
never remained long the same. 

The trees were purple, with leaves of gold that 
glittered like polished flint in the sunlight, and 
there were lakes and rivers like huge splashes of 
turquoise. Strange animals ran and crawled among 
the bushes and the air was full of birds that flew 
close and talked to them, and others that soared 
above and below as if curious to see who these 
visitors to their country might be. A great hawk 
flew toward them, followed by several old owls and 
an ugly-looking vulture. 

44 The keeper of the gateway,” called Chu-ta-win, 
in a low voice. 44 He will ask why we are here.” 

44 Welcome to you, Chu-ta-win,” called out the 
hawk as he approached, 44 but who comes with 
you! ” 

44 Two brothers of the earth born,” answered 
Chu-ta-win. 44 I have brought them to see your 
wonderful country.” 

44 What do they wish here! ” asked the hawk 
again, and before the eagle could answer, Cho-gay 
spoke for himself: 


170 





The Thunder Drum 


“ We come searching- for the blue charm that 
was lost by Wongo, the bear. None of the Bear 
Clan knows where it is, but you, of the sky, see 
all things and can, no doubt, tell us where it may 
be found.” 

“ Um-m-m,” answered the hawk, “ I have not 
seen nor heard of this charm, but you might go 
over to those of the Water Clan and ask Chaco. 
He may be foolish-headed enough to give his time 
to such things. But remember there are no idlers 
here and we do not welcome idle questions.” 

“ Humph,” came Kaw’s low voice in Clio-gay’s 
ear, “ that fellow is entirely too full of his own im¬ 
portance. I’ll teach him something when I next 
meet him below.” 

They were nearing the Cloud ground now, and 
presently landed with a springing jerk. Clio-gay 
slipped from the smooth back of the eagle and 
stood swaying a bit, as his legs grew accustomed 
to standing again. 

Chu-ta-win was not at all tired from his long 
flight and seemed as fresh as when they had started. 

“ Come on,” said he, “ we’ll take a look around. 
Everybody up here has his own particular work 
to do. Some are of the Water Clan and some of 
the Ice Clan. They make hail and snow. Over 
there is the place where the winds come from. 

171 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

They make lightning up here, too — all kinds, and 
eclipses. Ever see one of those? Look around, 
you can see for yourself, you have eyes in your 
head.” 

Kaw gave a grunt and, in a very good imitation 
of Clio-gay’s voice, spoke for him: 

“ Eyes in my head and ears in my head, 

I’ve heard before all you have said.” 

The eagle grew red in the face and answered 
haughtily, “ I was speaking for your entertain¬ 
ment and not to be insulted.” 

Cho-gay answered hastily — he saw that it would 
be useless to explain that he had not spoken — 
“ I did not mean anything, Chu-ta-win. What I 
have heard before was not nearly so interesting 
as what you have told me.” 

“ Well,” answered the eagle, somewhat satisfied 
with this, “ suppose we w r alk around a bit and see 
things. You say you are in search of a charm? ” 
He was looking at Kaw as he spoke, his eye 
traveling from the tip of the glaring white bill 
to the last red tail feather, and his searching 
glance annoyed Kaw exceedingly, especially when, 
after a moment ’s puzzled thought, Chu-ta-win threw 
back his head and laughed until the tears dropped 
from his eyes. 


172 





The Thunder Drum 


“ Now I have it! ” he cried. “ It is Kaw you 
remind me of. Except for the color you could be 
his brother. 

‘ 4 Haw — haw — ’ ’ continued the eagle, i ‘ haw — 
haw — haw — ! Did I ever tell you, Cho-gay, why 
it is that Kaw never speaks to me any more? 
Avoids me, in fact? ” 

“ No,” said Cho-gay, with an uneasy glance at 
the crow. 44 Suppose we go on now.” 

“ Oh, it is too good to keep,” insisted the eagle. 
‘ ‘ It is the only time I ever heard of the laugh being 
turned on Kaw.” 

“ Kaw is a friend of mine,” said Cho-gay, “ and 
a friend of Redskin’s too.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right. You will enjoy the joke. 
It is because your friend here reminds me so much 
of Kaw that I thought of it. He looks like him, 
except for his color, and talks like him. You aren’t 
related to Kaw by any chance? ” and Chu-ta-win 
bent down and looked closely at Kaw as he asked 
the question, breaking into another long chuckle 
as he did so. 

Kaw was furious. Every feather stood on end 
with anger and his eyes flashed. He quivered 
from head to tail, and yet, to the amazement 
of Cho-gay, he did not answer the eagle but turned 
instead to him and spoke in an icy tone: 

173 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“ If your friend insists on telling funny stories 
when our time is so short, I, at least, do not need 
to stay and hear him. I will meet you at yonder 
lake.” He indicated a splash of blue water a short 
distance in front of them, and he rose into the air 
with all the dignity he possessed and flew off in 
the direction of the lake. 

i ‘ Whee! ’ ’ said Chu-ta-win. 41 Such language! 
Our friend is not very polite,” and he chuckled 
again. “ He certainly reminds me of Kaw! ” 

“ What was the joke? ” asked Cho-gay. “ I 
wouldn’t mind hearing it now.” 

“ Our Eed friend did not w T ant to hear it,” 
mused Chu-ta-win. “ Well, here it is, and you 
will understand why Ivaw T avoids even the sound 
of my voice. I w~as taking a nap one day; it was hot 
and I had dropped down under a big bunch of 
sagebrush. I suppose just my head must have 
been visible and even then I don’t see how he ever 
came to make such a mistake, but Kaw, coming up, 
took me for a lady friend of his and proceeded 
to talk most beautifully, and mostly in verse, 
something like this: 


“ Your dainty bill I dearly loye, 

Its graceful shape is sweet; 

But more than all, my Lady Love, 

* «/ 

I praise your clawlike feet! 

174 





The Thunder Drum 


“ There never was a fairer bird 
In all this land, I know; 

To say there was would be absurd 
And ignorance would show. 

“ Your little wings are dainty things, 

Each eye a midnight pearl; 

Your glance a throbbing heart-ache brings; 

Oh, be my birdie-girl! ” 

“ That’s something like it and there was lots 
more. I listened for a while without moving a 
feather, but it finally got too much for me and I 
just had to laugh, and jumped out of my bush at 
the same time. It was the first time I have ever 
seen Kaw really what you might call 6 flabber¬ 
gasted.’ He fell over backwards when he first 
saw me. He didn’t sav a word and he hasn’t 
spoken to me since. I can’t say I blame him, but it 
was funny.” 

Cho-gay grinned and looked off in the direction 
Kaw had taken. Chu-ta-win followed his glance. 
“ I won’t say any more about it before our Red 
friend,” he said, and Cho-gay looked at him 
quickly, but the eagle would not meet his eye. 

“ Come on,” said Chu-ta-win, “ there are lots 
more things for you to see.” 


175 







CHAPTER 5 


RAIN COMES TO TIMBERTANGLE 

C HU-TA-WIN and Cho-gay walked slowly to¬ 
ward a lake that lay like a great turquoise be¬ 
fore them. Strange animals hurried, scurrying 
and crawling in every direction, and birds darted 
hither and thither. 

The eagle indicated with one wing what seemed 
to be a huge mountain rising high in the east. 
“ The mantle of the night,” he said. “ It is the 
blanket that is let down every night over the earth 
to hide the face of the sun, for if it were not 
hidden just so often all growing things would 
dry up. It is very old now, the night-blanket, and 
holes are beginning to show. We, below, call them 
stars, and if it wasn’t for those holes,” he added, 
“ we would have no moon, for when the moon is 
thin and pale it slips through one of the holes and 
comes close to the earth to give us light to try to 
make up for the loss of the sun, for the Moon God 
has never approved of the night-blanket and is 
much more gentle toward earth folks than the sun.” 

176 


The Thunder Drum 


They were now near the lake and Cho-gay could 
see, near its edge, a little old man, sitting by a 
huge drum. The old man held a great padded 
stick in one hand and looked constantly to the east. 



“ That is Chaco ,’ 9 whispered the eagle, “ Keeper 
of the Thunder Drum. He looks toward the east 
for the signal of the sun, and when he sees that, 
he pounds the Drum and that is the signal for the 
Water Clan — see, those little fairy-creatures sit¬ 
ting all around the lake. They each have a gourd 
dipper in their hand and, at the signal of the Drum, 

177 













Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

they dip water from the lake and pour it through 
the water-holes to the earth. That is the rain, and 
the sound of the Drum is thunder, and the flash of 
the sun-signal is the torch that we call lightning. 
We will speak to Chaco. But listen,” he added 
more cautiously, “ we must speak in rhyme. It is 
the only language he knows, and if we speak dif¬ 
ferently he will grow very angry and send hurri¬ 
cane winds over the earth. That is the way they 
come. He has lungs of leather and his voice, when 
he is angry, is louder than the Thunder Drum.” 

“ All right,” answered Cho-gay in the same low 
voice the eagle was using, “ you speak to him 
then.” 

Chu-ta-win looked at Cho-gay a little doubtfully. 

“ No, you speak first. It isn’t so hard, but I’ll 
probably have to do the real talking, as I’ve had 
more practice.” 

There was a snicker from over their heads and 
Cho-gay saw a flash of red, as Kaw dropped to a 
near-by bush, evidently with the intention of over¬ 
hearing their conversation. The eagle was imme¬ 
diately uncomfortable and spoke to Cho-gay a trifle 
stiffly: 

“ Go on, why don’t you speak? Chaco is wait¬ 
ing. ’ ’ 

The old man had raised his head and was watch- 

178 







The Thunder Drum 

ing them as they drew near. He was silent, wait¬ 
ing for the first word to come from them. It did 
not come very easily. Clio-gay was not quite at 
ease and cleared his throat two or three times be¬ 
fore he began, haltingly: 


“ We are from the earth below, 

And we’ve come to see if you know 
Where’s the charm of Wongo, the bear; 

We can’t find it anywhere. 

Can you tell us where it is? 

Or, if not, then where it was — 

Not exactly that I mean, 

But where once it might have been? ” 

There was a choking sound from Chu-ta-win and 
an echo of it from the bush, where Clio-gay knew 
Kaw was listening, and then the eagle gave him a 
little push to one side and began hurriedly: 

“ We have come, he and me, 

To find out and to see 
If vour wisdom can show 
Us the right way to go — 

Just to see, or find out, 

Quite without any doubt, 

Just exactly the place, 

Or the spot or the space, 

Where the blue charm is hid. 

Where he lost it — he did.” 


170 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 


This was too much for Kaw. Such an attempt at 
rhyming struck him as too funny for words and his 
voice, subdued but trembling with mirth, came to 
them from the bush: 

“ I have heard a constant rumor 
Of the Rain-man’s sense of humor — 

Let us hope that it is true — really true — 

For of rhymes of man or bird, 

That’s the worst I ever heard, 

I am shocked, my friends, quite shocked, at both of you. 

Then in a voice mimicking Chu-ta-win ’s, he con¬ 
tinued : 

“ Oh, where is the blue charm hid, 

For he lost it, yes he did. 

Oh, my goodness, gracious, gumption — what a joke! 
For the stone was really his — 

Won’t you tell us where it is? 

It’s a wonder wise old Chaco didn’t choke. 

“ But go on my friends, and ask-— 

I’m made happy by your task — 

And if Chaco, here, can stand it, so can I. 

Stand up firm and take your time, 

All the air is filled with rhyme, 

And, no doubt, you’ll strike a fine one, by and by.” 

Chu-ta-win grew red in the face and shot furious 
glances toward the bush, but Cho-gay, with a self- 
conscious grin, made the best of the situation and 

180 





The Thunder Drum 

kept his eyes on the old man, who seemed not to 
have heard Kaw’s low voice, but was thinking 
deeply on what the eagle had said. Presently he 
nodded his head slowly and spoke in answer: 

Chaco knows of what you speak, 

And has seen the blue charm stone 
When the clouds from Eagle peak 
O’er the mountain woods have blown. 

But there was no storm that night, 

And the Moon God brightly shone. 

It was lost within his light, 

He can tell you, he alone.” 

The two nodded gratefully to the old man for 
his words. 

“ Come,” said Chu-ta-win, in a low voice, for 
the Eain-man was again looking toward the east 
for the sun’s signal, and had apparently forgotten 
that they were there. “ Shall we go to the Moon 
God now? I doubt if we find him to-day. You 
see — what’s that! ” 

Cho-gay jumped suddenly, as Kaw lit on his 
shoulder and began to whisper in his ear: 

“ Now! We are going to do it! Listen — I’ll 
call Chaco over here, I know how. Then you and 
Chu-ta-win jump for the Thunder Drum and push 
it through the nearest water-hole. You see that 
big one, right there? That little water-creature 

181 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 


cannot interfere. Then jump on Chu-ta-win’s back 
and drop through the hole — both of you. You’ll 
have to be quick and don’t look back. The Sun 
God will blind you with lightning if you do. Tell 
Chu-ta-win it is for the life of Timbertangle we 
work — now! Quick! ” 

And Cho-gay breathlessly repeated to Chu-ta- 
win the directions Kaw had given him. The eagle 
looked shocked and astonished, but before he could 
protest Kaw called out in a good imitation of 
Chu-ta-win’s own voice: 

‘ ‘ Chaco, quick! The Sun God’s call! 

Come! He’s calling one and all! 

See, his golden arrows fall! 

Chaco, quick! The Sun God’s call!” 

As the old man rose hurriedly and confusedly 
took a few steps toward the east, Cho-gay leaped 
toward the Thunder Drum and with a sudden push 
sent it whirling toward the water-hole a few feet 
away and then, with another push, down through 
the opening into which it disappeared. 

Kaw was at the hole instantly. “ Quick! Chu- 
ta-win! Quick! Cho-gay! ” he called, and almost 
before the words were out of his mouth all three 
dropped down through the hole — first the eagle, 
who spread his wings instantly, then Cho-gay, who 

182 








All three dropped through the hole 
































The Thunder Drum 


fell on the broad back and held on tight, and then 
Kaw, flying easily down after them with a chuckle 
of triumph in his voice. 

Several pairs of eyes stared in furious amaze¬ 
ment from the hole above, which now looked like 
an opening in a dark cloud, and great arrows of 
lightning flashed from it. Just then a loud rumble 
came from far below. 

‘ 4 The Drum! The Drum! ’ ’ shouted Kaw in glee. 
44 It has lit on the bed of leaves made by Wongo 
on Skull-top mountain, and the little bear is beat¬ 
ing it with all his might and main. Hurrah! 
Hurrah! We Ve won! We’ve won! ’ ’ 

Just then great sheets of opal-colored mists be¬ 
gan to drift toward the earth from the holes in 
the clouds and Cho-gay felt wet drops on his face. 
A little gray hawk, flying from below, began to 
sing in a high excited voice. As his words came 
to them more and more clearly the very air seemed 
to echo the music and all Timbertangle seemed to 
be singing: 

“ Oh, brown the earth and gray the sky, 

And desert and stream and pool are dry — 

But in the east the rain clouds fly. 

Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain, ’twill rain, 
Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain! 


185 







Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 

“ I felt a drop on my'feathered breast, 

The rain clouds come from the east and west; 

I felt a drop in my sheltered nest! 

Ah-heee, little brother, Twill rain, ’twill rain, 

Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain! 

“ Now over the world a joyous hush! 

Then comes the storm with a sudden rush — 

The great drops patter'on sand and bush! 

Ah-heee, little brother, the rain, the rain! 

Ah-heee, little brother, the rain!” 

Then, how it came down! It seemed as if Chaco 
and the rain-people above were trying to drown 
them. The rain came in great sheets and floods 
of water and the three drew in tlieir heads as far 
as possible and shot down toward the earth almost 
as fast as the raindrops themselves. 

Suddenly there was a cry from Chu-ta-win and 
he began to moan in a frightened voice: 

“ One of the arrows from the Sun God must have 
struck me! I am bleeding to death! Oh, what 
shall I do? Oh, what shall I do? ” He began to 
sink even more rapidly toward the ground. Sure 
enough, a great, red stain was growing on his back 
and crimson drops were falling fast. When they 
reached the earth he lay still with closed eyes 
while Clio-gay and Kaw bent over him. 

Suddenly the crow began to laugh and Chu-ta- 

186 





The Thunder Drum 

win opened his eyes to look at him. Then lie 
opened them wider at what he saw, and raised him¬ 
self up, forgetting for a moment his fright. 

“ Where did you come from? ” asked the eagle, 
4 4 and where is Redskin? ” 

“ Oh, Redskin,” answered Kaw in a voice that 
was choking with laughter, 4 4 Redskin is dripping 
off your hack! The rain transferred him from me 
to you. Cho-gay declared the color was fast — but 
— Oh, haw — liaw — haw — I don’t think even he 
knew how fast! ” and then as he saw that the 
eagle was beginning to understand what had hap¬ 
pened, he started to hop up and down in his usual, 
grave way, and to chant: 

“ Sometimes very dull is the eye of a crow, 

But the eye of an eagle — Oh, never—Oh, no! 

Oh, never, Oh, never — 

For truly whoever. 

Has heard of the eye of an eagle that’s so! 

Chu-ta-win watched Kaw for a moment, while the 
rain poured in a steady stream from his feathers 
and dripped from the bush from under which Cho- 
gay followed their every word. Then a slow grin 
spread over the eagle’s usually fierce features — 
perhaps at the comical appearance of Kaw, whose 
feathers were most wonderfully streaked with red 

187 





Wongo and the Wise Old Crow 


and black, with here and there a smear of white 
from his bill. 

“ Well, we ’re even, Kaw,” he said at last. “ I 
don’t think that either of ns can laugh at the other 
in the future, and I promise not to laugh at you 
any more if you’ll forget to-day and not laugh at 
me! ” 

“ A bargain! ” cried Kaw. u Ho, all Timber- 
tangle ! Listen to this : 

“ The Crow and the Eagle have made a pact! 

Oh, sing a song of the Thunder Drum! 

This day and hour it becomes a fact! 

Oh, sing a song of the Thunder Drum! 

Never until the world shall end, 

Shall either laugh at the woes of his friend, 

But only help him those woes to mend! 

Oh, sing the song of the Thunder Drum! ” 






























































































































































































































































































































































































































